Broomsticks and scissors and a love story
by BabyFangirl.xxx
Summary: Constance Hardbroom is shocked upon the arrival of the next staff member, and after many arguments and disagreements, is it possible they can ever be friends? Maybe something a little more? Femslash / HBDrill
1. New arrival

_**A/N this is set 1 y****ear **_**BM**_** (before Mildred) when (I'm completely guessing) miss drill starts teaching at Cackles Academy, Constance may be a little OOC but I'm sure I can grasp the hang of it after a few chapters. **_

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The staff room had most certainly, drastically changed, and annoyingly, Constance Hardbroom couldn't quite put her finger on it as she stood stiffly in the doorway, trying hard as she might to distinguish the difference. Miss Cackle hadn't looked up at the potion teachers entrance, too busy sipping her tea etiquettely at the polished oak table, another helping of cheesecake on her plate, as the crumbs trailed an obvious path from her plate onto the table. The day before term starts and already she's gorging on the delicacies. And she's not the only one, as Miss Bat was digging into a lumpy powder, such an ugly shade of green.

"Frogspawn sherbet, Miss Hardbroom" the old witch grinned delighted, answering her unasked question, licking her jade sugared coated fingers as Constance raise her brow to question both her choice on snacks and her eating methods, surely a spoon would... But she didn't raise the point, miss Bat was a 'free spirit' as she had started referring to herself of the late. Her silver hair sat in a clump of wire, like a tangled birds nest on top of her head, obviously she hadn't tended to it yet, still she thought a few new decorations might come into use, no doubt to get lost in the maze of hair. Miss Hardbroom stared coldly around the room, finally able to realise the difference in scenery. The chipped windows had now been draped with a flag-like banner and abrupt colours, with the words "welcome" splashed in ugly, bright bold and very clashing writing, which seemingly looked like wet paint. No denying as she confirmed the table had been spotted with harsh spots of yellow, brown, red, green and blue. The headmistress had taken to hiding her plate under the table as if to avoid her precious pudding painted.

"Oh heavens," she sighed, trying her hardest not to grimace " it's absolutely hideous " she rolled her dark eyes, pulling her own chair out of harms way, the scraping of the wooden legs against the floor joined Davinas squeals, clamping her hand over her mouth as she hurried to imprison and confine herself to the dark cupboard.

"Oh miss Hardbroom, was there really any need? I've been coaxing her out of there all morning! Only managing to avail with a strawberries apple salad and a promise to take her out on thursday!" The old witch huffed shuffling over to try help the over reacting, stressed woman hiding in the cupboard. Her glasses perched dangerously at the tip of her nose, like a vulture on a branch, and constance kept her mouth shut for a small while.

" Well I am sorry, Miss Cackle, but truly, all my years here, we never had such... Display work! We have no need for decorations now, and honestly, I'm abhorred, it's dripping paint all over the tarnish!" She concluded firmly, earning a loud sob from the bat, whilst magicking herself her own cup of tea.

"Constance, Miss Bat has gone to long extents, painting and putting that thing up for the new staff member, not for you, Miss bat was merely being thoughtful," the headmistress had turned back to the tall witch who stood abruptly, causing the chair to fall back, and resulting in another shocked squeal, the deputy head was now blocking out the woman's pestering squeaks. She froze.

"W-What?..." The witch was astonished, not even knowing about such plans.

" We thought it best to tell you at a later note Constance! We do know your unmistakable abilities to stress the situation. " the charms teacher stood next the the cupboard still, with her arms folded.

" Stress the situation!? Miss Cackle, whether or not you thought I would benefit from this, a new staff member should be the first thing I know about! I don't even know what she, or he, is teaching!" She replied quick off the mark, firmly and fiercely, fairly annoyed that this had escaped her attention. Amelia cleared her throat, composing herself.

"That would be... Physical education" Constance Hardbroom had to refrain from spitting her tea, choking it down instead, leaving her with a round of coughing afterwards. "Physical Education miss Cackle -" she paused to regain her breath with watering eyes, threatening to smudge her makeup. " - is the very last thing these girls need. M-more energy? Do you really think this to be wise?" The potions teacher stammered protestingly, more than annoyed.

"Miss Hardbroom, really! She'll be here any minute and you need to make a good impression, be yourself, and be nice"

" which one? I can't very well do both!" She cut across, her dark lips parted with more to say but was silenced, by the head.

"Now now Constance, I need to go see miss Tapioca down in the dungeon, kitchen. We're discussing a new menu, Monday to Saturday and the traditional cackles dish on Sunday. I'm due down there in a few minutes... Originally Davina would see this, miss Drill, safely into the school, but seen as she is..." The headmistress turned her head to the direction of the sulking, hidden witch. "... Currently unavailable, you'll simply have to put aside your differences and make her feel welcomed. Weren't you afraid your first day Constance?" Miss Hardbroom gasped, shocked at the very notion.

" I most certainly was not miss Cackle! I simply strived for the best, and well being of the students!" never was she afraid. The curious part of the tall witch was wondering why she even needed to be greeted at the gates, when she could fly in like the students? But Amelia would class the question as nosey and unnecessary information, so Constance stayed quiet. _'Trust her to trust me with the task, because I was certainly welcoming and approachable, and completely able to make the witch feel at home_' She thought regrettingly, but Miss Cackle was already out of the door when she began to have second thoughts, and suddenly she regretted being mean to miss bat.

Constance hurried to the cold courtyard, with her long skirt flapping around her ankles as she unlocked the heavy gates, suddenly surprised by the sight before her. A young woman, smiling pleasantly... Her tanned complexion, smooth and untainted, with long blonde hair tied in a precise plait hanging limply over her shoulder. She had bright green eyes, as if they had been engraved with emeralds. What did puzzle the witch , was her attire and chosen transportation. The blonde witch was dressed in a small, bright orange top with no sleeves and a low neckline, the dark jogging trousers reached all the way to her ankles and decent running footwear. '_Be Polite Constance, be nice and welcome her_' she reminded herself, but she couldn't stop taking in how strange the woman was, especially as she was stood, supporting a two wheeled bike, a contraption that she herself wasn't used to seeing with a witch. Finally satisfying her curiosity, the deputy head stood up straight and proudly "...Welcome to Cackles Academy" she force the words through her teeth, not used to this speech, not used to this manner and not used to this bright witch in front of her. " you must be miss..." Curse it, the name had slipped her mind, sure Amelia had mentioned it.

" Imogen Drill" She sounded like a public speaker, with a strong, bright and attention capturing voice. She to, had been sizing up the witch, how very smart she looked compared to herself, who would look more at place in a triathlon not outside the gates of a witch school. Imogen looked up to the woman, there was rather a distinguished height difference and inwardly the new teacher hoped not everyone was as tall, she had had enough of being called an elf in /her/ school, never mind this one as well.

" well then, you'd better come in," Constance even tried to slip the new teacher the smallest of smiles, remembering what the headmistress had told her to do, but her stone features remained cold and hard. Miss Drill's presence was awkward and unnerving to the witch, not to mention the silence apart from the slight squeak of bike wheels against the cobblestones, as she led the way to the broom shed where the bike could temporarily stay. " I must admit, miss Drill, I do find your methods of arrival rather unusual " miss Hardbroom commented, as imogen wheeled the thing among the spare broomsticks.

"Well how else am I supposed to get here? By balloon?" She chuckled and Constance managed to crack a little smile. It would be refreshing to have someone else around, that's not bat-lunatic, or as commanding as miss Cackle. For the second time this morning the witch rolled her eyes picking up an old shabby broomstick.

" By this, miss Drill, even witches from Arabia ride brooms" again she cursed herself mentally, now for using a fact she had sworn never to use after she had unwillingly been taught by miss Bat after her first visit to the place. The new teacher was laughing and the dark haired woman didn't even know what was amusing her, causing her to grit her teeth.

" Oh miss- I never got your name?" The blonde stated, supporting her bike against the wall.

"Hardbroom" she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Miss Hardbroom, I'm not a witch." She froze, not able to believe her. Miss Cackle had hired a woman, without magic, to teach at Cackles Academy.

"You're... Not a witch?" She shook her head and without another word Constance Hardbroom was striding accusingly straight to the former dungeons, where miss cackle was naming a whole variety of deserts. Oh no, this /wouldn't/ be refreshing she'd rather suffer five miss Bats than let standards slip at Cackles academy.

"A non-witch!?" The brunette had given both women a startle as she raised her voice, pausing before continuing. "You could've brought a frog to teach the girls and I wouldn't be half as surprised! Do you know what this means Amelia? She could expose our existence! Endager the students! Besides I doubt she would even be able to handle a group such as them!" She was horrified by the notion, a magic school, for witches!

"If you are quite finished Miss Hardbroom!" The witch was silenced, temporarily, feeling something like anger course through her veins.

"M-miss Cackle, may I remind you that this is Cackles Academy for '_young witches' _ a '_magic'_ school. The teachers are supposed to set examples for the students, she can't even fly a broom never mind use magic! We do not need a Dewy eyed, gym version of Rapunzel around the place! Rapunzel Rapunzel let all hell break loose! There's no use for her here she might as well go now!" Constance threw her arms up in harsh disarray and annoyance. She knew she had overdone it when miss cackle gasped and pushed her glasses up on top of her head. She opened her mouth to say something, looking mostly appalled. But instead Miss Bat squealed, flying through the door, and constance was, for the first time in her life, glad she was out of the cupboard

" Constance Hardbroom! I heard that! She hasn't even started yet! And already you're criticising her!" Okay, the potions teacher took back her most recent thought wishing instead /she/ could take residence in her own cupboard right then.

It came quickly but the scene flashed before her eyes. A thirteen year old constance, holding her shaking arms, as she sat in the bottom of her, cupboard, stifling her bitter sobs, lest she give away her hiding spot. " _You can never hide from me Constance," _then it was gone and the witch was still in the kitchen debating.

Davinas brow furrowed looking very concerned and stressed as she almost collapsed into a chair, lowering her voice dramatically to a whisper " she's just outside the door..." Miss Cackle fixed the fearsome witch with a look she knew far too well, a look she received whenever she caused miss Bat to go hibernate, a look that meant '_well now you've done it_.'

"Well now you've done it!" The charms teacher shook her head and fetched the non witch into the kitchen, and there was no mistaking that her eyes had clouded up. The young blonde pursed her lips thinly, obviously controlling the way she looked, not wanting at all to look wounded by the lexical terms. Miss Hardbroom was never one to feel guilty, but to say miss drill had no use, that must've had some effect, but still, her decision hadn't budged, she firmly didn't agree with her being here. Still she knew miss cackle was right, now she /had/ done it. Miss bat, countless times, the students countless times, miss Drill... Maybe she'd have left before she could progress.

"Now, now dearie, you must be Imogen ya?" Miss Tapioca grinned warmly and sat the gym teacher in a chair, everyone, quite startled, having forgotten she was there " You are freezing! I'll make you an 'ot chocolate to warm you up, ya?" The blonde woman nodded stiffly composing herself,

"Th-that would be Lovely," Davina Bat hovered on the woman's left patting her shoulder with a smile, Amelia, on her right, cutting some cheesecake for her as she mumbled.

" We're truly glad that you'll be staying with us, it is just a shock for Constance, we hadn't told her of your arrival until twenty minutes ago" so this had been the reason, the witch realised, why she had been neglected in the conversation of the new teacher, both elder witches knew she wouldn't have a non-witch take the position when there were other candidates. "Constance!" Miss cackle hissed and she looked to the table timidly as she grimly apologised, like a schoolgirl, the thought made her sick almost. Miss drill was trying to brush everything off, smiling coolly.

" No really, everything is okay, I'm fine!" And with that sorted. Hardbroom vanished to her quarters.

Constance stayed clear of everyone for the rest of the stressful day, leaving Amelia to show the new teacher around, making sure she would disappear when she heard their voices nearing the potions classroom. The only teacher she couldn't avoid was Miss Bat, who decided to come out of the cupboard, yet again, when Constance was only in the staffroom to collect the new potion books for the first years tomorrow. Making sure to ignore her, Davina eventually huffed after her un-registered lecture, retreating defiantly back into the cupboard, slamming the doors. And from that moment on, the tall woman was safe in the silence of her room, alone and peaceful, a feeling she knew would be gone tomorrow when the students arrive.

After touring most the school and a brief history lesson of Lucy Fairweather and Barren Overblow, Imogen Drill was shown her assigned chambers. It was a neat, cosy room, with a bed, considerably larger than the students'. Another difference between the staff and pupils rooms, were the dressing tables, equipped with a three piece mirror, and draws, some of which containing extra candles, and matches, and for the last difference, a worn rug, trailing its was from the door, to beside the bed. But everything else was the same, the small wardrobe, the frameless windows... Still it was appealing to the sports woman, and didnt hesitate to flop herself down on the bed enthusiastically, wanting to determine the springiness of the matters, just like a little girl, giving her tour guide a laugh.

" I hope you settle in well, Miss Drill" the headmistress smiled warmly, before bidding the non-witch goodnight, and shut the door behind her. The blondes smile slipped from her lips as she toyed with her plait, looking at her dazed reflection in the mirror. "_We do not need a Dewy eyed, gym version of Rapunzel around the place!" _Constance Hardbrooms words echoed, vibrating off the walls of her mind. Robotically, the woman sat herself in front of the dressing table, staring at herself, noting her eyes swimming with tears. She was alone now, she was allowed to cry, but she wouldn't let them spill, taking a few staggered breaths before she sat up straight, the posture reminding her of the dark haired witch. "_Rapunzel Rapunzel let all hell break loose." _The gym teacher bit her lip, still fiddling with her plait. Rummaging quickly through the drawers, Imogen Drill believed she had found an answer to her Rapunzel problem, and determined she would not be put down by anyone,especially not that fierce witch that set her on edge, the blond woman let a tear loose. Her green precious eyes burned softly, finding what she was looking for and after concluding her thoughts, she took the scissors to her hair.


	2. Snip

_**A/N so to clarify this is a HBDrill Fanfic and, nothing really seems to be happening, (for you impatient guys who, like me, can't wait to see Constance and Imogen tigether,. Its irritating that I have to write through all the necessary arguments etc, but there will be lots of HBDRILL to come later xxxx please review! And enjoy!**_

One of the other matters that Constance didn't agree with, she thought as she lay stationery on her cold, made up bed, was that the teachers all had to sleep on the same corridor. Most the time, Constance could hear the high heels of Miss Cackle or Miss Bat or Miss Gimlet, as they trot along the hall after checking on the girls during lights out. Amelia Cackle was the first door on the right, with Davina Bat beside her, she herself opposite on the first door on the left, miss Gimlet's old room was next to hers, unoccupied for some time now, and the rest of the dorms empty except Mr blossom who had a room at the end on the right for occasions, like the time his house was set alight by a group of misfit fourth years. She groaned in utter loathing when Imogen Drill was assigned the room next to her, and began to feel like a schoolgirl complaining about the witch next door, but in her case a non-witch... Even worse. The candle had burned a good inch before she even thought about drifting to a troubled sleep, and just before the witch blew out the flickering warm flame on her nightstand, she heard an unfamiliar whimper.

_The dark haired girl let the softest whimper escape her pale lips as she held back brutal tears as her arm was jerked backwards by the steel grip of her form tutor. " you know how we deal with girls who can't keep the rules, Constance. They have to be punished" mistress heckety Broomhead stated coldly, as her fingers dug painfully into the young witches pale skin, where black and brown finger finger shaped bruises had already collected there from previous occurrences. Hot tears fell loosely from her eyes now, as she stared up at her fearfully, not once did her grip falter. Through the pain and the hardship inflicted on her by her own tutor, Constance stood strong as a stone, in the harsh world that she couldn't rise above. A world that beat her down with every step. A world that she wished she could just escape from._

Faint as it was, she was sure there _had _been a sob, and she let out a low, unbelievable groan. She was next door to a crying, little girl. She herself had never shed a tear on cackles threshold... Well besides the time when Miss Bat had forced her to try arabian dusk weed, that just happened to be one of the hottest ingredients known in the area... But besides that, she had never cried at Cackles Academy, not once. Still a haunting part of her believed that she herself had driven the new teacher to tears, well, she hadn't exactly been what miss Cackle called 'welcoming'. Miss cackle. The potions mistress was sure going to get some complaints if she hadn't even tried to properly apologise, and though she absolutely abhorred the idea, she wrapped the black, warming nightgown around her fragile frame, sighing deeply before reluctantly vanishing, not even bothering to walk 15 steps to the room next door.

Both women were equally as surprised as the other. Imogen hadn't before been victim of the famous 'appearing out of nowhere exercise' so constance was greeted with a quiet squeak from the startled P.E teacher. Constance looked over the girl, sat slumped at her dressing table, her tanned cheeks were stained by obvious tracks of previous tears that had cascaded in a burning path down her face Her eyes reflected the shock in the others as Constance inaudibly gasped. At first she couldn't make sense of why Miss Drills hair was that short. If she was being herself, Hardbroom would have said how poorly she had done the task. Her hair was cut very unevenly, and sticking up in some places.

" I look stupid, don't I?" Imogen spoke lowly and quietly, exhaling deeply. The witch didn't know what to say, opening her mouth and then closing it, looking for something logical to say.

"Y-you've cut your hair..." '_Because that was certainly logical Constance!' _Talk about stating the obvious. She scorned herself silently. She didn't look as fierce as she did earlier, but Imogen bet it was only the surprise masking it. The blonde half laughed half sobbed at the ridiculous comment and held her head in her hand.

" why?" It was all the long haired woman could manage, still shocked, standing stiffly in the centre of the room. The non witch looked to her reflection not bothering to turn around properly, she wasn't exactly sure how to answer. She knew she looked a mess and sighed solemnly, holding the scissors weakly in her hand when both women caught each others gaze in the mirror. Bright solemn emerald eyes met dark, mysterious chocolate brown eyes.

" W-would you cut it properly for me?" It was a ridiculous request and the witch felt a growing need to object, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this was indeed her entire fault, as she nodded stiffly, hoping that this would be enough for Amelia Cackle not to scold her later. The brunette took the cold item in her hand. She had never cut anyone's hair before and she took a shaky breath thinking about it. Something could go disastrously wrong, she could cut her hair to short or make her look even more stupid, she could accidentally hurt her... Oh like Constance cared, she already had hurt her enough that day, this was no time to start worrying. Both women stiffened immediately as Constances long fingers swept through the short uneven golden hair of the non-witch. Imogen stifled a gasp, unable to ease. The witch almost wished she hadn't agreed to this, as the potions mistress forced the tension out her arms sizing up two locks of the soft hair and cutting even and precise. Imogen knew that she wouldn't have asked for the older woman's assistance, not since that morning, accept the fact that she looked like a hedgehog and would not be seen around school the next day looking so.

"You never answered my question, Miss Drill" the witch reminded, her voice cold and full with authority. The younger woman tried to relax as her hair was sifted through the womans delicate fingers, and only did so after four minutes when she was sure she wouldn't be hurt by the scissors, and getting used to the fragile touch. She didn't really have a problem with scissors, there was more chance of being hurt during a run every grey morning, than a witch, who surely hated her, cutting her hair. It took a moment for Imogen to realise she had spoken and was yet again, stuck what to say, watching the reflection of the stern witch being so precise, as _snip. _

" I was hoping to make an impression, miss Hardbroom," she was pleased to find her voice didn't take the same as, weary tone it had earlier, and had regained its low, attention capturing ' perks.

" how so? Looking like you got hit by lightning is not a common way one would go about that". The blonde narrowed her eyes, it wasn't / her/ fault she had never cut her hair before, it was always her mother who would do it, or her brother, but never herself. The last time her brother had cut her hair, he kept threatening to chop off her ears, making her laugh when he used his middle and pointing finger motioning them as scissors, clicking his tongue to justify his point, but that was twelve years ago.

" an impression that ' Rapunzel' was not going to be a wrecking havoc and a respected, deity figure " so this _was_ her fault, Constance blinked, and continued to cut the blondes rather short hair. Never before had she 'not' put pride into her work whether it was arranging her potions in height order, or her books in alphabetical order or when she put her own hair up, making sure not a hair was out of place and was carefully and accurate, even around Miss Drill. Besides she would pretend that she had never even acknowledged her existence tomorrow. After all she knew Imogen just needed help with her appearance, and being as smart and precise as Constance was, she knew ( almost arrogantly ) that she was best at the job. She didn't say anything for a little while, her dark chocolate eyes flicking up to the mirror to see the non witch watching her. She wasn't smiling like she had when she had first seen the bright woman, but instead she was cut off and detached, '_well all the better' _she thought, at least she wouldn't try engage conversation with the witch.

She was wrong.

" what's the matter with people without magic?" Constance gritted her teeth as she refused to look at her, still snipping away.

" we have the reputation and standards of the school to uphold, Miss Drill" Imogen rolled her eyes tentatively wondering if she was going to add ' miss Drill' to every comment.

" So you find it compulsory to discredit everyone who can not live up to your expectations miss Hardbroom?" She spoke heatedly, defending herself, and her 'race' she knew plenty of lovely non witches, sure that Constance would approve... Only if there was magic in their blood. Maybe she would even approve of _her_ if she had a single drop of witchcraft in her.

"No I just do not see how the school benefits from people like-" she cut herself off before she said something that miss Cackle would lecture her upon if she was here, and she busied herself almost finishing the blondes hair. She didn't know the blonde at all, and truly hoped she wasn't the kind to run to the head and complain like a whining child

" people like me," the gym teacher finished, slowly, feeling deflated like a balloon with nothing left inside. Constance just studied the last two strands of hair, sizing them up and with a final snip, she dropped the scissors back on the desk.

" Do try keep your disastrous sobbing _down _miss drill, some of us are trying to get our well earned rest!" And with nothing more to add she disappeared and Imogen stared at the empty space where the witch had vanished so suddenly, before back at her reflection. She hadn't even had time to say thank you, but Constance Hardbroom was the last person on earth she wanted to thank, even if she _had _just solved her hair her hands lightly through her short hair, she smiled softly, it was certainly better than the electrocuted hedgehog she had managed. Of course it wasn't going to be easy to get along with Constance, but she certainly couldn't have any reference to the no good version of Rapunzel she had been accused of earlier.

The deputy head paced her room in straight lines, from the door, to the wall, to her desk, to repeat the boring triad. Her thoughts were all over the place, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't gather them, not like she could gather her portion ingredients. She had been 'nice'_ish _towards Imogen on their first encounter that was one point to her, then she had been mean about her, in front of the staff minus that one point, she had caused Imogen to cry _and _cut her hair minus two. She had helped the non witch with her hair, plus one, and then she was mean again, minus one. Strike. And confused that her thoughts sounded more like baseball results, she concluded that she hadn't completely been fair, and miss Cackle certainly wouldn't like it if the blonde told her why the sudden change of style. And with a comprehensive sigh, the witch climbed into her bed, the sleeping potion already uncorked, sipping the entire contents from the dark purple vial, putting out the candle with her usual hand motion.

Half the staff members had already gathered early in the staff room as the much needed holidays were eventually over, and young witches would begin filing into the school over the hours. Miss Cackle had been busying herself over her crumpet, whilst Miss Bat was composing a very cheery song to welcome back the students, when Miss Drill entered and Davina dropped the fork she had been using as a baton. "Amelia! Look at Imogens' new hair!" Davina bat squeaked as miss drill entered the staff room early in the morning. Amelia didn't even care to correct Davina that her hair wasnt _new _as such, but she knew wholeheartedly miss Bat was greatly distracted.

"I can _see _miss Bat, I can see" Miss Cackle did look rather shocked, her eyes widened slightly, the look of surprise that Miss Hardbroom wore the night before. Constance, at that time was braiding her hair in one long plait, dismissing all the previous days events, realising she would have to accept the fact the non-witch would be staying.

The gym teacher was grinning brightly as she enthusiastically strode into the room, sitting herself opposite Miss Bat.

" Yes, I decided to 'freshen up' a little, besides it was rather annoying having it whip my back when I run." This seemed to be a successful excuse for the head teacher who returned to eating, not even suspecting any other reason behind it.

" I think it looks great Imogen! Really you!" Considering she hadn't spent much time around Davina the day before, Imogen wasn't sure how the chanting teacher knew how she '_really was' _but she accepted the compliment with a smile.

" thank you Miss Bat." She looked around curiously a moment before asking " where is-"

"Constance!" screeched Miss Bat, spilling very cold tea in her lap, as the witch apparated right beside the witch, scaring the life out of her. Constance Hardbroom tried not to smile smugly but failed as she always did.

" Oh get over yourself Davina, you know the routine by now!"

" Routine Constance Hardbroom!? Appearing here and there and scaring me is not a planned task to add to your timetable!" Imogen felt slightly sorry for the mad chanting teacher, knowing how startled _she _had been when the witch had appeared out nowhere, and for her to constantly put up with the witch, who often terrified her so. Imogen herself was partly terrified of Constance, the statue like posture always ready to spring into action, the constant vigilant eyes...

" Of course my time here wouldn't be half as fun without the opportunity to see that startled look in those vacant eyes of yours." Even Amelia Cackle had noticed the cocky ( cockier) change in her deputy heads words. Either the poor woman hadn't slept or there was something bugging her. Davina Bat pouted and locked herself in the cupboard, dramatically, much to the confusion of Miss drill who immediately looked to the headmistress for explanation.

" No need to worry yourself Imogen, Davina often needs to hide herself to display hurt or sadness, as of course you can guess who causes that. Constance rolled her dark eyes, used to the accusations, and knew it was Miss Cackles form of telling her she did something wrong.

" It usually takes her an hour or so to come out from there." Amelia, sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose to read the paper. With the head teachers nose in a paper and davina in a wardrobe, Imogen felt uneasy with just Constance to talk to, and meeting her cold gaze for a moment, she couldn't even think about conversing with her,not wanting to swim the dangerous rapids, just to end up arguing. Instead the tanned woman tentatively and lightly knocked on the cupboard door.

" Miss Bat?" All she got was a curious squeak in return, but it was a first and the two other teachers watched apprehensively " Miss Bat, please come out, the students will be here soon, and we don't want them to miss out with one of Cackles' greatest teachers" her brother had taught her well, flattery could get her almost anywhere, always sharing the biscuits he had bribed the school cook to let him have. " Please Miss Bat, I'm sure you're excited to welcome the young witches." Miss Hardbroom had been watching the non witch too closely for her liking,but she was, after all deeply curious, nobody had ever bothered Davina while she was locked away in her cupboard, until the bold young woman. After a moment, the shaking old chanting teacher came out and constance tried her best to not look impressed, despite the fact this was a great achievement.

Miss Cackle was clapping, clearly impressed. Imogen smiled brightly, maybe she could start enjoying it here, and maybe everything would turn out okay... That was until the squeals of two girls caught each teacher attention as they hurried to see the commotion. The handle of one broomstick had been tied tightly to the tail of another, the leading broomstick taking a tricky course around the courtyard, leading the other one to almost smashing into the sheds.

"First years" Amelia pointed out, shrilly. Constance blinked and paused the brooms mid light causing the two girls to look terribly confused.

"Such behavior can not be tolerated" the tall witch spoke clearly, before anyone aare tell her it was dangerous and that the girls could have fallen, as each member of staff hurried outside to meet the two early witches. Constance Hardbroom raise her brow as she smiled smugly but towards the blonde witch, who didn't know how to react to the current situation. A look that Imogen could only read as the potion mistresses belief that she would not be able to cope, especially not with the two witches, Fenella feverfew and Griselda Blackwood.


	3. Tablets and Broomsticks

_**A/N I am very sorry for the mistakes in my previous chapter, do know I was up at two writing that, and I wasn't thinking as much as I should've. Anyway, time for a length paragraph as Imogen actually talks to Constance, just a little. Xx please Review! It'd mean a lot.**_

It was relieving for all the staff that there were no more entrances like the ones of fenella and griselda, and that the rest of the morning passed smoothly with most witches able to handle their broomsticks. Of course there were always the girls incapable of flying who travelled by foot, and the persistent witches who tried, only to end up losing her balance. Luckily there were no injuries, miss Cackle despised the thought of more paperwork on the first day back from the holidays, and none of them wanted crying girls in the school. The first years all hung around awkwardly not knowing what to do, as friends from older years met up and laughed, discussing all random statistics from the holidays. Miss Drill was rather amused by the chatter, hearing story after story, _" Penelope 'actually' managed to trick Albert into drinking love potion, remember that time when Rebecca- " " Lacey came down with dragon pox two weeks ago, shes -" "-Ginevera into a polecat! For five days!" _Everything that would have seemed impossible to Imogen, captured her wildest imagination, finding the girls gossip to be highly entertaining. It was much more amusing than normal gossip from normal schools, well when you were a witch who knew what would happen?

" Miss Drill would you _please _watch what you are doing!" The familiar cold voice snapped, only then did Imogen realise she had almost hit the deputy head in the face with a broom handle, as she collected each girls broom, to neatly rest them against the benches in the broom cupboard. She had turned around to say something apologise or argue or ... Something, but the dark, cut off eyes glared, like they could turn _her _into a mangy old polecat, and nervously, the non-witch quickly continued with her task, without reply.

"Two hundred lines of ' I must not bring such fake and superstitious items such as crystal balls, to Cackles Academy' miss Goodcharm! On my desk first thing tomorrow." Constance confiscated the unnecessary orb, that was only useful for casting rainbows when the light shone through it.

" Welcome, girls!" Amelia Cackle called out in her warm, tender voice, she cared for the girls undoubtedly so, and made them feel welcomed.

" It doesn't seem so difficult," Imogen stated, back in the safety of the staff room with miss Cackle and Miss Bat. The girls seemed settled enough, having entered in a suitable manner, and were now having lunch under Constances supervision. She could teach, surely! There was no reason why being a non-witch would disclude her from making an exceptional effort, and she was sure her colleague was wrong about her.

" Oh it isn't!" Concluded the chanting teacher, shaking her head carefree " There's just events that are difficult to handle "

" There really is nothing to worry about over, you mustn't let Constance get to your head" The gym mistress almost gasped.

" Miss Hardbroom is not getting to me!" The blonde protested profoundly annoyed that tall witch was the first person people linked to her problems, especially after she had determined she would have little to do with her. "All it is, is that I am slightly nervous, being my first day at all." Yes, nerves was indeed part of the reason Imogen Drill was worried, the other, being the only non-witch in the whole school, full of witches.

" The girls are usually exceptional, Miss Drill, there is hardly a fault in them, they're, bright and well behaved students. Plus they are-" Amelia didn't have time to finish her reassuring speech as the potion teaches appeared in the staff room, much to Davinas annoyance.

"Absolutely Chaos!" The witch screamed, fury and disbelief swimming in her arrogant dark eyes. Her jaw was clenched tightly highlighting her sharp cheekbones. She didn't gave Imogen less than a second glance.

"Miss Hardbroom! You almost gave me-"

"Palpitations" the three witches spoke in a monotone and in unison, used to the statement that too often left Miss Bats lips.

"Constance whatever is the matter?" The headmistress raised a quizzical brow.

"Girls are!" The woman almost shrieked, pursing her lips thinly. " magic food fights miss cackle, magic food flying around the great all, chasing student targets around the place!" Miss drill tried not to snicker at the imagery, the slightest sound cause Constance to glare icily.

" and the culprits?" The old witcth asked, already expecting the answer.

" Fenella feverfew and Griselda Blackwood".

Seven days, five arguments three retreats to the cupboard and two door slams later, Fenella and Griselda became the schools most famous couple of mischief makers. Imogen had finally settled, finding not much difficulty in her teaching, apart from of course the exploding lollies the duo had distributed in class, causing a chain of small bangs and the students' tongues were paralysed for a few hours. The scene hadn't gone unnoticed by the deputy head, which resulted in another argument, that the young woman was not doing her job well enough, and _that_ led to a door slam on her way out of the Staff Room.

It seemed that only Miss Hardbroom had a problem with Fenella and Griselda, having already had them write out lines, practically every time the stern witch saw them. Miss Drill and Miss Bat however saw their enthusiasm as natural stages of growing up, and inspiration for their energy. Miss Cackle adored the two, as both were excelling highly in charms, even if they had given Imelda bunny ears...

The non witch had long since given up trying to prove to Constance that she really wasn't as bad the woman believed her to be, Miss Bats exact words being "You can't always please people like Constance, Imogen" Despite the fact she knew that, the blonde woman didn't go to sleep after lights out, but thought desperately, about how to make a non witch impressive. She wasn't doing this for Miss Hardbroom, but for the whole school, after hearing the fifth years snickering over non-witches teaching in the Academy, and even though Imogen Drill would appear not to take the words to heart, she got a grip on just how much value she held at Cackles Academy. And that's what made her look for Fenella and Griselda.

It was too early in the morning, and a wide awake gym teacher couldn't rest. Especially not after all the adrenaline that as recently seeped its way all through her body to the tips of her fingers. But now, she limped her way to the staffroom, knowing she had pain relief tablets somewhere. She knew Amelia didn't approve, thinking it was highly irregular and that a simple spell or potion could cure pain, but after Constances unnecessary comment "that would be _if _one could even _do _a simple spell or potion" and Imogen had a half a mind to pull a Davina, and lock herself in a cupboard.

The warming rays of dawn we're beginning to shine pleasantly, the orange beams tickling the horizon as the skies were tinted pink. Not a cloud trespassed on the painted canvass, everything was so still and serene, that Imogen would have loved to go for a jog in the nearby woods at such an elegant time of morning, alas the pain that burdened her hip and back wasn't letting her do any form of exercise at the current moment. The medicines were in her coat pocket that still hung on the back of her chair like a bat on a branch. Each of the staff had their own keys for the room, and that was the main reason the gym teacher was shocked to find it unlocked, Miss Cackle always made sure to lock up after her late night studies, just so that no students with prying eyes would get in, or cause havoc. Imogen warily pushed the door to make sure it didn't squeak on its rusting hinges. The candle was still lit and. Only stood two centimetres tall, a pool of hard wax surrounding it. Someone was in the staff room, which could've easily meant they had seen her outside. No. Constance was at her desk, in the corner, facing the wall. The witch was fast asleep, her heavy head on her arms, surrounded by work she was supposed to be marking. Her dark hair was left down, cascading in an elegant, chestnut waterfall down her back. The candle light bathed the woman's porcelain pale face in a godly glow, looking stunning and peaceful, for the first time since her arrival she saw her without a scowl, without a grudge, and she looked undoubtedly beautiful, not half as scary as usual. The sight was almost enough to make the non-witch forget of her business there, had it not for the pain that kicked her in the side. She had kept the tablets in her coat pocket, for the simple reason in case she sprained her ankle while running, it _had _happened previously and the young woman and took precaution of it.

The blonde gritted her teeth as she hobbled the way to her chair where her navy sports jacket hung abandoned. It pained her just to sit down, popping the tablets one by one from their restraints.

_Pop._

_Constance heard the apparition of the woman before she actually saw her, towering over the young girl cast in her shadows. "Out of bed again, Constance?" The icy voice drawled over her, as the young witch looked up in fear. " I'm not out of bed miss, I'm on it," Hecketty Broom head seemed to look darker and taller, causing the frightened student to quickly dash under the covers, but not before the woman had seized her by the neck, a choked sob ripping through Constance as her windpipe was blocked by the steel grip. Tears filled the dark eyes as she struggled to breath, panicking and trying to writhe from her clutch. " remember why we have rules Constance, because if we don't follow them, somebody is going to end up getting hurt" _

_Pop. And constance was left along, her bruised body curling up as she cried quietly._

'Pop' this pop was real, and the potions mistress snapped herself awake, in complete fear that her haunting form tutor was after her again. The sight didn't make sense, as Constance glanced around quickly, there was no Hecketty Broomhead and nobody apparating anywhere. That was, until she laid eyes on the wide-eyed non-witch.

"I-Im sorry Miss Hardbroom, I didn't mean to wake you. I just..." It seemed pretty awkward to explain why in fact she needed the pain relief and the P.E teacher remained quiet. For a moment Constance stared horrified at the work she hadn't finished, knowing how much pride she always took in her work, just to fall asleep in the midst of it all.

" Miss Drill, " the witch acknowledged her a moment before gathering up the spread papers.

"Imogen! For goodness sake, how many times? Just call me Imogen!" The tone the blonde used surprised the witch completely. She would never use that tone, had she not been rather moody from the pain and the nights events, and that reminded her to take the tablets that lay expectantly in her hand. Yet she couldn't, they had vanished, quite literally, and Miss Drill looked up to the deputy head accusingly, protesting " I need those!"

"No you do not, Amelia does not agree, so why do you think I will let you disobey her orders in front of me?" Both could sense another argument brewing, the warning hanging in the air.

" she never said I _couldn't _have them, she just said she didn't approve -"

"My point exactly," Constance cut in, making the non-magic made thing disappear in the teachers hands as she went to take another.

"That's not Fair!" Protested Imogen, now in rather a lot of pain, sure that a nasty bruise was forming, wincing harshly as she stood up. Trying her hardest to not appear to be limping, the non-witch was about to leave the room in a stubborn manner of hers.

"Miss Drill?" Imogen tried looking inconspicuous as she paused, like being weak in front of her was the very last thing she needed,and the reason behind it all... Oh the potions mistress would surely laugh and taunt her later on. " What is the matter?" Her dark eyebrows knitted, not for concern of a friend, but more like watching out for a colleague.

"Nothing, I... Tripped over a root in the forest, it was too dark to see anything, just hurt my leg is all." She _had _to pause didn't she, because that was so convincing! Her brother Marcus, had always been the one good at lying, and often tried to teach his little sister how to do the same, but little Imogen was too much like her mother to succeed fully in his ways.

Constance raised a brow, not entirely convinced. "Sit down, miss drill"

"that isn't necessary. Miss Hardbroom." She added with a shake of her head.

"That isn't a _question_ Miss Drill!' The witch crossed her arms, sternly daring the other to argue, and although they usually did, she did _not _need a limping sports mistress not able to do her job with classes tomorrow. Constance didn't even know why she insisted, but she did anyway, and a relenting Imogen sat crossly in a chair, the impact making her eyes water.

" Which leg is it?"

"Pardon?"

" which leg did you hurt from tripping over a root in the darkness while jogging in the wood," the witch extended, rolling her eyes softly as the young blonde bit her lip. She _hadn't_ hurt her leg and she certainly was running in the woods. She hung her head and didn't answer.

"You've been lying" Constance spoke in a 'matter-of-fact' tone and the non-witch merely shrugged. " why don't you tell me exactly what happened?" Talking about her turn of events was the last thing Imogen wanted, not even with Davina or Amelia, let alone Constance but she sighed, doubting the potions mistress would just let her walk, or limp away from this one.

/ Imogen knew exactly where the girls rooms were, having sent them into isolation of their bedrooms once or twice, and in no surprise the candle was relit and both girls were sitting cross-legged on Griseldas bed, whispering in hushed voices, a thick volume laying open on the covers. Both girls looked up startled at their gym teachers appearance and Fenella stood up, ready to go back to her own room when she was stopped. " Wait a moment Fenella," they mirrored each others puzzled expression "Neither of you are in trouble, but I... I need your help, and I know you two like breaking the rules and being up after lights out" It was a crazy plan but the two smiled agreeingly, shrugging into boots and cloaks.

"Hover," Griselda ordered her broom as Fenella went through the basics of flying to Miss Drill, actually hoping that the teacher could actually achieve her plan, and therefore less people, students _and _teachers, would think of her as merely a non witch.

"Now, the broom is used to my orders so I'll make sure you don't crash, you just need to... Keep your balance" Ever since Imogen had first seen a broom on flight, she had longed to be able to do just the same. This act wasn't just an act to prove she wasn't useless, but a chance to actually live a dream. The sportswoman settled herself sideways on the broom, actually rather nervous.

"Relax, Miss, it'll be fine, just hold on tight..."

"And don't lean too far forward"

"And don't panic"

" and most importantly don't close your eyes" the girls made sure the teacher knew everything she had to as Griselda tapped her broom shortly.

"Up and away," Miss Drill let out a surprised gasp, grasping the handle much tighter that her knuckles turned white in the cool nights air. It was rather dark, but after countless runs at ungodly hours, Imogen was fine with seeing in the dark, and only hoped Griselda was the same. Before long the woman was laughing as Griselda and Miss Drill worked together on keeping the broom steady, Fenella quietly shouting words of encouragement, the girls standing beside the broom shed, so not to be seen if a teacher decided to look out her window. Never had the non-witch felt so alive, even more so than running in the refreshing morning breeze, and she was in pure ecstasy, swerving to miss the rooftops, adrenaline shooting through her veins. Still, she was too caught up in the magical experience, now able to prove to people that she was worth more than she seemed, and Fenella and Griselda were discussing excitedly, that not one of the three noticed as the teacher was about to crash side on with western tower, just before that, she closed her eyes tightly, panicking and leant closer to the handle of the broom, three of the four things the girls had warned her not to do, and after crashing to the wall, Imogen lost her balance and fell.

The girls were no longer smiling, and within seconds were by their teachers side. Griseldas broom had no damage whatsoever. Imogen however didn't look so good. In excessive agony, she told the students she was okay, but her nose was bleeding from the impact and her arm appeared to be either dislocated or broken, the students couldn't tell.

"We can help you, miss,"

" we both studied injury spells in the library on Tuesday"

"It was really simple"

" and easy to remember " the pain of the crash and the pain of admitting she was a failure was enough to make the blonde woman cry, but she didn't, and in moments, she was fine, thanks to Fenella and Griselda, and she was thanking the first years excessively, dismissing them both back to bed.

As Imogen Drill walked about the corridors doing another unnecessary round of lights out, the non-witch felt completely useless, just like people had told her she was, that's when she let a few salty tears slip from her green eyes. Her head was spinning terribly and her side and back was most certainly excruciating after falling seven meters from the floor./

After the blonde had finished Telling Constance everything, she felt very ashamed and couldn't even look at her, knowing she'd be cross. But after a moment or two of silence, she dared look up to the witch who was studying her with an expression she couldn't identify. It seemed to her like a mixture of pity, worry and confusion. She didn't say anything about her stupidity, risk, potential danger, students out of bed. Only a few words that shocked you young non-witch.

"Well, let me heal you properly" and with an expressionless face the witch didn't wait for an answer to cast her magic.


	4. At Dawn

A/N **_ thank you for the reviews! Much appreciated. A friendship almost brews in this chapter, but Constance doesn't want to admit to anything..._**

Imogen immediately regretted spilling out everything that had happened to the witch, as soon as she was trying to heal her. The pain in her side throbbed, and the fingertips that brushed over clothed skin made her tense, not helping the agony she was in.

" Sit still, Miss Drill!" Constance ordered as the young woman flinched as the witches slim fingers met the fabric of her shirt as her Magic eased the pain, and Imogen could feel the oncoming bruises fading back. She was no longer whimpering under the suffering. The witch didn't want to touch the woman any more than necessary and soon enough drawing her hand away from her side. She hadn't uttered a word until ordering her to be still. Again, she brought the event mostly down to her fault, of course the non-witch believed she was useless, hadn't she herself told her that the whole time? Constance believed that the young teacher was rather stupid to attempt such a dangerous task for a person like Imogen. '_It's very late... Or really early, that is the only reason you're not being yourself constance,' _the strict woman told herself, guessing she would be regretting this forever, but adding to her previous counting, she decided that this made them even and was no longer indebted to the non-witch. It was rather odd, thinking about it that way, as she never kept track of how many times she had hurt somebody else, or tried to make up for it in her own way.

Miss Drill was rather relieved when the pain flooded from her side, easing part of her back as well. Constance sat herself on the arm of the chair in her purple nightclothes, catching the faint light of dawn, as she intended to sooth the bruises from Imogene back. Often she had tried the same spell on herself, but the scars and bruises were too old,not fresh enough to be handled, and she was sure it gave Hecketty Broomhead great joy and the thought that she would never be rid of her, never.

The gym mistress tried to stand, as the witch began to heal the pain from her back. " Sit." It was an order, the same tone she would use on her students. Miss Hardbroom didn't even know why she was bothering, not like either of them were getting any potential joy from playing nurse and patient, but sincerely the witch only hoped it would make amends. The non-witch reluctantly sat back down in the worn armchair, but at an angle so to give Constance less hassle. The silence suited Constance just fine, it left her alone with her thoughts. Broomstick flying! What a stupid thought! She could've easily been in the ward already, or had circumstances been different she could even be dead! Constance berated the blonde in her head, for once not wanting to push matters, after all things were her fault at the moment. She slowly pushed her hands up the woman's back, as a cry of pain passed her lips before Constances magic targeted the pain, Imogen straining as fresh tears escaped the corner of her eyes. How she hated to show so much of herself in front of her, but the pain had truly shocked her, and the non-witch sat almost paralysed when she was healed, and Constance slipped her hands from under the blondes top. The potion teacher could have left then, gathered her work and went back to her room, but Imogen Drills latest actions served as a bookmark of worry in her book of life and at the moment, she didn't feel too keen to leave her by herself.

"You know, if you were not so crazy, as to go gallivanting around at night, trying to fly..." - Constance had stopped herself from adding ' trying to be someone you are clearly not'. " and if you were not so brightly optimistic and enthusiastic... We might actually be able to get along" the witch admitted quietly, which received a small grin from the gym teacher.

" You know, if you weren't so uptight and level headed... And stop looking like you'd slip me a banishing potion every morning, we might even be friends" she had opened her mouth to say that it was terribly inaccurate as there was no potion capable of banishing people, and that she was _not _uptight, but she let her hands fall slowly into her lap. She had never been to good with friends, she wasn't that kind of person, not even as a child.

" I wouldn't waste my potions on you, Miss Drill, I have better uses for deadly potions" for the first time, Constance managed to crack her the slightest, smallest of smiles, that was returned brightly.

" that really is comforting to know, Miss Hardbroom." She didn't even bother asking the witch to call her Imogen, it was obvious that they were not going to ever get to that. " and thank you, for sorting out my bruises" Constance wasn't used to being thanked either, and found she did indeed enjoy the proudness that prowled in her gut.

" I could hardly leave you looking like a personal punch bag now, could I?" Imogen softly laughed and sat herself back, looking up at the strict witch.

" so, I've been told I looked like I'd been electrified and now I'm being told I look like a punch bag, thank you Constance!" The potion mistress smirked to herself, crossing the room to blow out the melting candle as the sun was very slowly rising, and the flame was just dancing uselessly on Constances desk. Imogen only approved of late nights when she was out either on a run, or at a late night party, and sometimes even they bored her to sleep. Sometimes she would approve of late nights when she foolishly decided to drag first years out of bed and teach her how to fly a broomstick, still,they would eventually catch up to her, and the sports mistress felt weak and exhausted, losing the best hours of the night. The oranges and pinks that painted the sky were hazy through her half open eyes, the sun itself was not yet up, but the coloured sky was lit with radiance and Imogen didn't mean to fall asleep, but she did with a soft smile printed firmly on her soft lips. Constance Hardbroom collected her work, tidying and rearranging everything neatly on her desk, always hating mess and unorganization, as she thought of something clever to reply to the blonde with. The silence was golden, and the witch secretly wondered what miss drill was currently thinking about, that was, until, she had turned back around to find the young woman had simply drifted off... She wondered if she had in fact been slightly too harsh, that they had no shot at ever being friendly, but if so, what was that? The non-witch was rather serene as she basked in the very early morning glow, her golden hair gaining colour from the light of the upcoming dawn. Constance didn't even realise she had been staring, but her chocolate coloured eyes hadn't left the sleeping teacher, until she managed to stifle a yawn. Suddenly, she didn't know what to do, it didn't seem right to just abandon her and go to bed, but she didn't want to stay down here the whole time. With a final decision, the tall witch sighed and gathered the young woman into her arms. She was surprisingly light and she felt rather worried now, that she'd wake up, and oh what explanation could she possibly come up with!? And with that thought in mind, the witch vanished, reappearing into the teachers hall with a faint pop. The non-witch didn't stir, she just nestled her head comfortingly into her shoulder. She'd be damned if Amelia or Davina came out now, and she hastened to miss drills chamber. Laying the p.e. teacher down on her unmade bed, constance took a quick glance around the room it was practically how it was when she had last been in here cutting her hair, the only difference was the clothes strewn across the chair lazily and the newspapers and magazines laid out across the rug at the side of her bed. Imogen, as if recognising the soft mattress, wrapped her arms around the pillow, holding it close. The sight brought a faint smile to the deputy's lips as she stood in the doorway. Constance flicked her hand in a delicate motion and the covers went sliding up the blondes fine body, tucking her up warmly so she wouldn't wake from the cold. She had just been about to leave, before she came back like she had forgotten something... She had. And with a nervous glance to the door ( as if anyone would be up that early in the morning anyway) constance gathered all her courage to lightly peck the sweet woman's forehead with her pale, soft lips.

" goodnight... Imogen "

Amelia was looked rather disturbed, when Constance entered the staff room that morning, and the witch tensed as she saw the head teacher going through the students' work that she had marked last night.

"Miss Cackle... You appear to be stressed," she observed cautiously, sitting in her allocated seat at the right of her superior.

" no Constance, I'm not stressed, concerned maybe, but not stressed" the potions teacher glanced curiously at the work she had marked wondering what had captured Amelia's concern.

" why is that?" She couldn't help being curious, especially when it came to her pupils.

" Well first off Constance, only half these papers are actually marked, now that in itself doesn't bother me, its the fact you hadn't finished. I know how much passion you have for completing all your work, and so therefore this does not add up. Secondly, Imogen missed her morning run today, a habit she has been into at six sharp every morning, she has no reason to miss her favourite hobby, even if she did have lights out last night. Third, the staff room door was unlocked when I came here this morning. All three are very unusual suspicious circumstances " constance felt paralysed as she sat stiffly in her chair, debating whether she ought to recall to Amelia everything...

" Miss Cackle I can assure you, there is nothing odd about the events. I had been dreadfully tired as I have been unable to sleep well of late, as you recall our conversation concerning... Mistress Broomhead. I had unintentionally fallen asleep while marking the work. When I had woken, I was too tired to remember to lock the door." Everything she said was indeed true, not the whole truth but at least she couldn't be accused of lying, " as for Miss Drill, she had taken a run after lights out last night, she's probably slept through her alarm this morning." She shrugged carelessly, ' _a run on a broomstick maybe' _she added in her head with a sly smile gracing her lips.

Amelia pursed her lips and too off her glasses handing the papers back to Constance, seemingly satisfied with her explanation, as always she was never able to see through her deputy's lies, small or large as they were.

Miss Hardbroom was sipping her second cup of tea that morning, finishing her paperwork, when Davina came singing through the door.

"Miss Bat! There are still students sleeping! Please!" Constance scorned surely, not looking up from the work as she sipped the contents from her cup. Davina was stunned to silence, staring at the teacher who disapproved of her profession, her lower lip quivering softly.

" Miss Bat -" Miss Cackle had begun to reassure the chanting teacher, but it was too late and the cupboard door slammed shut, as the staff room door opened.

" This is better far too frequently!" The potions mistress remarked as she returned to her tea. Imogen looked around curiously as she stood in the doorway, not even seeking explanation as to whose fault it was that Davina was in the cupboard. She had been very surprised when he woke up twenty minutes ago she was an hour late for her morning run, and decided to dismiss the activity for the past one day. She has also been confusingly shocked realising she had never put herself to bed, only remembering the bright colours of dawn as her eyes grew heavy in the staff room armchair. She had changed into her luminosity yellow shirt, white shorts and the familiar blue skin tight jacket. She had brought herself a bowl of fruit salad that miss tapioca had especially done for her, as to keep up her splendid figure. The blonde woman bit into a grape as the room was cast in a sort of fatigue way, and she visited the cupboard where Davina was hiding among her processions.

" Miss Bat?" Her voice called clear and confident, placing her salad on the table. It had become a regular act that Imogen would be the only one to succeed in withdrawing the mad woman from her personal prison. " come on Miss Bat, you're singing is splendid, you inspire most the school! Look... I've brought fruit salad?" She had come to learn the woman's love for fruit, and as if on cue the door creak open by a centimetre.

" Oh... Oh well. But Constance really ought to know that disapproval of such a well beneficial professional is truly disrespectful" the woman whispered and Constance Hardbroom looked up about to protest had the headteacher not gave her a warning glance. The non-witch slightly smiled as miss bat tucked into her breakfast, simply deciding she would go without her food as she went without her run. Her eyes lingered on the potion reacher a moment, wondering if after the almost " get along" was still playing off. Miss Hardbroom didn't look any different than usual, her composure was still strict and firm, her expression, not differing from any other day.

" Constance, can I speak to you a moment please?" An irritated sigh escaped the woman's lips as she looked up from her working.

" now, miss Drill? I am terribly busy at this very moment, " there was silence for twenty seconds when Imogen grew impatient.

" what about _this _moment miss Hardbroom?" Constance gave an exasperated groan, rolling her eyes, joining the blonde in the hall.

" What?" She hissed through her teeth.

" I... Well..." She was faltering not really knowing what to say. " I..I felt it"

" Pardon?" The witches brows knitted in confusion.

" I felt it, Constance," Imogen muttered lowly looking at the ground.

" Miss Drill, I do ask that you specify what you mean by _it,_" the older woman was growing out of patience and began drumming her fingers on her arms that were folded strictly across her chest.

" _this, _miss Hardbroom " without warning the gym teacher leant up on her toes softly, lightly pressing her lips to the pale womans cheek. For some reason she had not been able to say the word ' kiss' not out loud and as she pecked her colleagues cheek she knew she ought to have said it instead... Constance Hardbroom looked more angry than anything else, immediately checking the half were clear and nobody had seen.

" miss drill! Anybody at all could have been walking past at that exact moment!" Such careless actions could have brought around a large decrease on her ferocious reputation, and certainly would have lead to crazy rumours. " and for the record I did no such thing " Imogen backed away at the cold glare in her ( hoped to be) friends eyes.

" but I felt it!" She herself crossed her tanned arms, wishing she would at least admit it and not keep her standing there like a fool.

" I don't know what you expect me to say, miss drill, except that you are indeed mistaken!" Constance snapped quietly, without another word, vanishing on the spot. Imogen drill stood there for a moment and felt her shoulders sag. The whole getting along thing the night before must've been an act. But one thing was certain. There _was _another side to Constance Hardbroom, and Constance had kissed her.


	5. A kiss in the rain

_**A/N yes the chapter you've all been waiting for, Some HBDrill action! HB is a little OOC, but its just around Imogen... She can't be mean all the time! Enjoy! Xxxx**_

Constance Hardbroom wasn't in the staffroom the rest of the long, negative day, insisting she take lunch supervision from Davina and lights out from Amelia, very careful not to even catch sight of the gym teacher. This routine greatly aggravated the non-witch, who was used to seeing the deputy head already in the staffroom, sipping tea or marking work, or sometimes just sitting in silence. The room was eerily empty without the familiar scratching of pen, or tapping of nails against the wood of the table, or without the stiff emotionless figure of Constance, whose presence always seemed supportive in the staffroom. Imogen sat, fiddling with her cup handle, not even raising the brim to her cold lips, as her mind became clouded with regret. Why? Why did she have to be so... So Imogen! She really had done it, and all hopes of being friends flew out the window on a broomstick, far far away from her reach. She had recently taken to leaving Miss Bat a salad on the table, in emergency cases only, (the most effective way of tempting the chanting teacher from the cupboard) and every time, Miss Cackle would congratulate her on the bright idea and high spirits that solved their problem. But apart from that, nothing changed. The head teacher would sneak some cheesecake from the kitchens, and keep a watchful eye on her students _and _her staff, twice telling Imogen she ought to get more sleep, as the dark circles around her eyes were becoming more distinguished from her tanned skin. Of course _she _wasn't capable of hiding the evidence from the lack of sleep. It was very difficult thanks to the hard uncomfortable bunk she had not grown accustomed to yet, obtained with the haunting smile that plagued the blondes mind, and though the vary rare smile caused her to grin into her bedsheets, and set off a furnace in her ears,Constances smile wouldn't give her a moments peace as she longed for nothing more but to see that scarce smile again.

After lights out, Constance double checked on Feverfew and Blackwood, making sure each girls was in her allocated dorm, and not preparing to train non-witch teachers how to fly. She had given them both lines and three weeks worth of chores, which to Imogen seemed very unfair, as she had admitted it was _her _idea, but she was ignored by the deputy head. ' _I must not partake in foolish acts and listen to my conscience when there is risk of danger or getting hurt' _five hundred lines later the girls' hands ached and could barely hold the pen.

Instead of returning to her room, Constance went to the one place that could take her mind off things, her classroom.

'_Another thing'_ Imogen thought as she popped her head around the staff room door, sighing dismally ' _that's bad about not being a witch, is you a have to travel everywhere by foot'. _Cackles academy certainly wasn't a small place and from Constances room, to the staff room all the way down to the kitchens all in hope to consult the witch front on, blatantly asking why she had been ignored so persistently all day. But the brunette wasn't even in the kitchens, and Imogen sighed frustrated that she'd have to climb all the way back up the stairs, it was practically impossible to find the witch that had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth...

Miss Hardbroom was in the middle of brewing a height altering potion, of course the already tall witch didn't need it, but it was one of the most complicated potions, and she thought it would take her mind off her current situation. Twice she had almost used pond weed instead of lime grass or pumpkin pips instead of bat seed, and frustrated, she brought the cauldron to boil. It only needed forty minutes to simmer, then she would bottle that one, tidy up and maybe make herself a quick wide awake potion, or even dreamless sleep potion, but either way she would not see terrifying form tutor or haunting blonde in her dreams. The potion mistress sat on her stool, letting her posture grow weak for once as she rest her head on her arms, watching her potion bubble lightly, the sound comforting and... Tiring. As her eyes grew heavy, she tried forcing them open, she had to ... Wait for the... Potion. But despite her desperate thoughts, the witch unwillingly fell into a much needed sleep.

The non-witch leant against the cold wall that temporarily paralysed her back. She was debating whether or not she ought to give up on looking for the witch. It seemed odd in her mind, to try search for a woman who didn't even want to be in the same floor level as her, who probably went back to thinking she was just a useless non-witch who taught a useless

Subject. Of course! She taught potions, but she had never been in the classroom before, knowing constance took her personal space very very seriously, and of course, not wanting to be on even worse bad terms with her. Well, now as she couldn't get any lower in Constances book of dislikes, there could be no harm in visiting.

_Tears sting in the brunette's eyes as she pulls her sleeve back onto her shoulder, slipping over the bruises that marked her arms fresh cuts stinging like poison... Her salty tears drip into the stone floor as she can't bring herself to stand, her fragile soul caught in the hands of fate. Fear and pain swam in her dark eyes, a broken heart that the world forgot, and she cowered away from the witch who hurt her too often. As she closed her eyes, the tears were forced from her eyes as she sobbed violently, her body shaking. Hecketty Broomhead pushed her low to the ground roughly, as Constances palms hit the floor, sending jolts of pain up her arms. Children in the rooms around her blew out their candles and hid their heads under the sheets, they didn't want to hear the cries of pain, they didn't want to think of the torturous meaning behind it all. Constance was alone, left alone to suffer under the firm hand of her form tutor. Her fingers seized the innocent girls neck and her cries were cut short as she struggled against her. "You are a failure Constance Hardbroom" the headmistress dropped the sobbing girl back to the ground, shuffling into the corner of her room._

_" Please miss! Don't hurt me, I-I'll be good... Miss! don't!" Despite her pleads for mercy the young girl earned a hard slap across her cheek, as more burning tears streamed down her face._

The blonde couldn't believe what she was witnessing... And the sight terrified her greatly. The potions teacher had broken into a sweat, panting heavily in her sleep, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Then she started talking.

_" Please miss! Don't hurt me, I-I'll be good... Miss! don't!"_

It was breaking the gym teacher to pieces, hearing those words, and she didn't hesitate to run to the woman's aid.

" Constance! Wake up" in a desperate attempt to free her from the nightmare, Imogen caught hold of her shoulders. Big mistake. Still caught in her fifteen year old self, Constance screamed under the pain and fear, pushing 'Hecketty Broomhead' away, defending herself. She had knocked the cauldron, that went flying, spilling the contents all over the floor. Miss Drill couldn't mask the confusion and shock from being pushed away. The scream... Tears filed her fresh green eyes as she tried again, taking her arms in her hands. " Constance please! Wake up!" She spoke through sobs.

_Mistress Broomhead, grabbed her arms, and shook her violently, Constance sobbed, her body shuddering and the beaten down girl found her courage. _

"GO AWAY!" With that, Constance Hardbroom caught a soft grip on reality, and in absolute terror and panic her old form tutor was back for her, the mostly asleep witch sent the blonde flying backwards into the shelves. With a deafening crash, Imogen fell against the wall, then to the floor , the shelves and glass bottles accompanying her, on her way down. It was enough to fully awaken the brunette who stood immediately, in confusion and fear. The blonde was surrounded with shards of glass, and books that had tumbled with the shelves, a clear phase of terror in her own luminescent eyes, also reflected in dim moonlight. For a moment they shared such fearful glances, and it was almost as if the non-witch was scared of her, breathing quickly, not even noticing the glass that pierced her palms as she fell.

Miss Cackle accompanied by a terrified miss bat appeared in the doorway, stopping, the lantern swaying unsteadily in the headmistresses grip as she exchanged glances between the horrified, shocked witch, standing behind her desk, and the terrified blonde that sat in the remains of the shelves. The spilt potion was steaming, from the puddle that lay on the floor. Nobody spoke, nobody really knew what exactly happened. And all in silence, Davina took miss drill from what the chanting teacher would call "scene of the crime" . The fitness teacher was too paralysed in shock and fear that she couldn't even explain when miss bat had asked her so many times what had happened. Constance on the other hand, sat stiffly down on her stool, her wide eyes were laced with the same shock and fear that was in Imogens... And her mouth slightly parted she couldn't believe what she had done. After she had regained her speech, Constance retold her dream to the headmistress, who knew it wasn't really her fault at all, but she had ordered the woman straight to her chambers, straight to sleep, that they'd talk in the morning. Although the witch wanted so very badly to visit the blond woman, explain she had never meant to hurt her. Not then, not when she arrived, not earlier... never had she meant to hurt her. She wanted to make sure she was okay... She wanted...

No, surely she _couldn't _want that, she couldn't change her mind every 12 hours.

Although Davina Bat offered to stay with her, after returning the frightened non-witch to her room, Imogen dismissed her politely. Never had she been so scared of constance Hardbroom, to see that fear and deranged look in her dark eyes, to feel the sudden outburst of pain. Had she meant to send her crashing into the wall? Mentally, she berated herself, '_You shouldn't have even tried Imogen!' _It was at that moment when she remembered Constance cracking her a smile for the first time, _"I would never waste my potions on you miss Drill" and she bit her lip to stop herself from shedding a single tear. _

It was at that moment that she grasped she could never, ever be friends with the woman, without deadly consequences. And unable to think straight, the teachers fell asleep, confused and alone.

The potion teacher could not understand how on earth the woman could go for a run at six in the morning! It was ten to, at Constance felt groggy and sleepy, usually getting up forty minutes later. Yet she had decided this would be the best time to catch the woman, after Amelia had clearly

Told her about her 6 am running routine. It was a blessing the woman could simply sort her hair out by magic, otherwise shed be ready for lessons instead of Imogens run. Finally having buttoned up her long dress, again by magic, she glanced at her clock, and disappeared to the courtyard, just as the non-witch slipped through the gates. Sighing Constance summoned her broom, it would be too much to appear and disappear metres behind the woman each time, and there was no way she would be jogging after her.

Imogen drill was jogging faster than usual, despite her collision with the wall only last night, she was desperate to clear her mind, desperate to be far away from cackles for a while.

The witch watched from a height as the gym teacher diverted from the original path, getting lost in the greenery, as Constance was forced to land. No sooner had she done that, she appeared right in front of Imogen, startling them both as the blonde crashed into her, knocking them both to the ground.

" Miss Hardbroom!" She exclaimed surprised a moment, looking down at the witch, beneath her.

"Im-Miss Drill!" Equally as surprised, Constance stared, before realising she had been caught under the non-witch, blushing profoundly, as she gently pushed the woman up with her. Imogen glowed hearing her almost call her by her first name. That was until she remembered the events from the night before, shuddering, continued to jog past.

" good_bye _Miss Hardbroom!" She was confusing herself in knots, first of all she wanted to be around constance and know she was running away from her.

" Miss Drill!" Appearing out of nowhere again, the blonde began to see Davinas point, hating the shock she got every time. Still, gritting her teeth, she was about to proceed, until Constance caught her wrist, turning her back to face the witch. " would you please listen!" The brunette was undoubtedly shocked by her own actions, but kept her grip tight, just so the non-witch couldn't just leave again. They were caught in a moment of silence were dark eyes met bright green eyes and Imogens breath got caught in her throat. " I... I am so sorry... I-" Constance paused, realising how the words were ones that never left her lips before.

" I never wanted to hurt you... I never wanted to hurt you" saying it twice made the witch realise the truth behind the statement and Imogens features softened, the tension in her wrists leaving them loose in the potion mistress's grip.

" Then w-why?" The blonde stuttered, still standing in the middle of the woods. " Why did you, do that? Why have you been ignoring me, why did you deny the fact that you... You kissed me, why did you lie to me?" The non-witch asked sadly, hanging her head, and without even thinking about it, Constance raised her chin so her teared emerald eyes slowly shifted back up to meet her own chocolate brown.

" Because I _had _to, Imogen I..." Imogen. She had called her Imogen, and this time she wasn't asleep. She could see a brightness flicker in the captivating green eyes and the strict teacher, forgot what she was about to say.

Slowly and tentatively, as if giving Constance time to move, Miss drill raised her hand, caressing her sharp cheekbones with a fine delicacy. Her lithe fingers ran across her cheek lightly, completely captivated by the feel of her skin beneath her touch. Amazingly, Miss Hardbroom hadn't reacted, and she dared to let her fingers slide softly across her jaw. It was the most unique thing to see the elder woman shiver, and the gym mistress wondered if it was the cool morning air or herself, causing the witch to display such a feeling.

This was it, Constance could turn back now, or disappear, or she could pass the point of no return... Robotically, and emotionless, she cupped the blondes cheek gently. Her eyes were mysterious but longing, longing for the non-witch, she had hurt her unintentionally so many times... She had to make it all right. It was so agonisingly slow as the witch rest her forehead against Imogens, and her breath hitched, feeling the blondes warm breath ghost her dark painted lips. The tanned arms snaked around the deputy's waist softly, as she stood on her toes gently. Constance dipped her head a little, brushing her nose ever so softly against Imogens, before catching her warm lips beneath her own.

The radiant blush was evident on the non-witches face, the heat creeping up the blondes neck. Yet she was reciprocating the kiss passionately, pressing her lips devotedly against the witches own soft dark lips. And for a moment the potion teacher forget it all, even down to her own name. In the heat of the moment, Constance was pushing the gym teacher backwards till her back collided with the tree behind her, and although it was a vague representation of the previous nights events, neither woman took it to heart as they soon became desperate for breath. Gasping, Imogen couldn't bare to part with the lips she had worked so hard to get, and shared many short fevered kisses passing in between shallow breaths, barely giving the other time to breath before attacking her lips again. The deputy head had pinned Miss Drill to the tree trunk, deepening their lively kiss as she stepped even closer to the tanned woman who desperately leaned into the body that restricted her movements. When Constance was utterly out of breath she was forced to take a breath, glancing at the shimmering eyes of her colleague.

"I...I wish I could hate you" Imogen spoke quietly after a moment of regaining lost breath. The potions mistress understood. It was unbearably hard to ignore the woman, to not look at her when she was busy teaching and Constance was on free shifts, watching her from the staff room window, it was hard to hate her after the arguments they had, and without hating her, even after how many times she annoyed her, she couldn't hate her. And even for Imogen, no matter how much pain the witch forced her through, she couldn't hate her, just couldn't! Another soft warm kiss passed between the two just as a small droplet of water landed on the blondes nose, causing her to knit her brows in confusion looking up into the clouded sky.

" Are you kidding me!?" Imogen hated the rain, it would soak through her clothes and hey would cling to her soaked body as she would run back to the castle. Constance laughed quietly at the blondes reaction, pulling her close and into her cloak before she kissed her temple, without giving it much thought. Miss Drill beamed. She had never heard the woman laugh before and it fell like a harp on her ears, sending brilliant vibes through her body as she was pressed closer into the witch. The rain began to pour as Constance mounted her broom, pulling the non-witch beside her. Imogens face whitened. " A broomstick, Miss Hardbroom?" After her last incident with a broomstick, Imogen swore to herself that the next time she used a broom would be to clean her house.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," the words set of a fire in the blondes gut, tentatively wrapping her soaked arms around the witches waist, knowing she would get them safely back to the Academy. _Up and away. _Then, the thunder cracked through the sky and Imogens grip tightened around her, hurrying her face into her cloak. Nobody knew of her biggest fear. The thunder.

_"It just the clouds talking to each other Immi!" Marcus had told her as he tried to coax her from underneath her bed. "They're a bit like uncle George, they just talk too loudly," _

Still, all these years later, Imogen hated the thunder, and the thought of flying in it...

"Miss Drill, do you mind loosening your grip just a little...I can hardly breath" Constance muttered and concentrated on flying home. Try as she might the soaked gym teacher couldn't detach her arms, stiff in fear.

Soon as they were in the courtyard, Constance turned worriedly to the blonde. " Are you _alright_ Miss Drill?" No, no she was not alright, thunderstorms were the worst thing in the world! Constance glanced around and brought a warm kiss upon Imogens lips, bringing her back to her senses. The girl was shivering,her shirt and shorts completely soaked.

"let's get you inside before you freeze to death, and somehow _I'll _get landed with the blame" the strict teacher muttered, as she brought the non-witch inside.

It was a good thing it was early still, and that nobody had seen the two arrive. Nobody.. Except Fenella and Griselda.


	6. Snow in April

_**A/N loving the reviews, thank you xxxx chapter six everyone, and Imogen is bringing out the better side of HB... Blame Fenny and Grizzy then! Working on the next chapter later today xxxx **_

To Imogens disappointment, the witch didn't change drastically during school like she had hoped she would, however, they didn't argue as much either and the gym teacher was at least acknowledged, by Constance Hardbroom.

It was the first lesson of the day and potions class with the first years finished a full fifteen minutes early, as a shivering teacher slipped into the staff room with wide eyes, where Miss Drill and Miss Cackle were working away, preparing for their lessons in fifteen minutes.

"Constance!" The witch exclaimed confused " Lessons are not yet over,"

"Oh yes they are, Miss Cackle. Lessons may be over for weeks! I have never seen anything like it! Those two girls..." The non-witch just looked curiously, as the potions teacher spoke harshly, holding her frozen arms across her chest.

" What happened _this _time Miss Hardbroom?" The potions teacher's eyes were wide and scornful, swallowing before answering Imogens concerned question

"I think it's best if you have a look for yourself."

The three teachers hurriedly made their way down to the potions lab the blonde woman was forced to jog in order to keep up with Constances surprising pace. As soon as the furious witch opened the door to her classroom, something came hurling at full speed towards her, and the potion mistress avoided the thing with pure ease. However miss drill squeaked... The snowball had hit her right in the chest. The impact shocked her greatly, cold snow meeting the bare skin of her collar bone. Every surface was blanketed three inches thick in ghostly white snow, glittering enchantedly and in opposite corners of the room stood Fenella Feverfew and Griselda Blackwood. It was like a scene from a fairy tale, the beauty of the snowy atmosphere, icicles hanging limply from the ceiling. Fenella's mouth was parted in shock, probably expecting a student to enter not their teachers! She was sure to be on detention for the rest of her years at Cackles for hitting a member or staff with a ball of snow.

" Its enchanted snow Miss Cackle, unable to melt or disappear or move by magic!" Miss Hardbroom explained, firmly.

" Girls... I'm very disappointed with you, both" With a deep sigh Amelia turned and went to fetch Mr Blossom, expecting her deputy to deal with the girls. Imogen stood, still very shocked not able to react. Silence. Then the two girls couldn't refrain from smiling, then from giggling at their gym mistress's priceless expression, and despite it, Imogen was laughing along to. Constance caught back a genuine smile, chuckling silently, thank heavens nobody had noticed. Miss Drill bent down slowly, packing the snow in her hands tightly, and only too late did Fenella realise the snowball was hurling directly at her.

" Miss Drill! Have you lost your mind?" The pale woman protested immediately, a look of shock graced her features at her colleagues unruly behaviour, but the two students and teacher were laughing too much that Imogen either didn't hear her, or simply ignoring her complaints. The staff should definitely not be joining in very foolish situations, besides it was far too early in the morning. Before long a full snowball attack had emerged, Griselda and Fenella against Imogen. A fair match,Constance decided. And soon, she just stood in the doorway, amused and watching the game unfold. She knew she should be controlling the situation, but it was rather fun to watch.

_Smack. _All three girls watched in terror, as Imogens snowball collided with the potion mistress's shoulder. They would be scolded for sure, and students _and _teacher held their breath nervously. She had gone too far and the non-witch knew that, she was about to leave the scene of the crime, when the witch cast her particular hand gesture, her own magical snowball flinging itself at her attacker. Imogen quietly squeaked as the cold snow came into contact with her bare arms, shocked beyond belief, and a bright smile emerged on her lips, the smallest of smiles trying to be suppressed by the pale witch. An uproar of laughter waved through the potion lab, as snowballs were exchanged from students and teachers.

" If word of this gets out, I swear You will polish every single chair and every single table ten times over " Constance growled as she magicked her snowballs at the three girls. Picking up snow with her hands seemed too extreme indeed! An enthusiastic 'yes miss' chorused through not only Fenella and Griselda, but Imogen as well and the witch shot her a look she had never shown anyone, a half sarcastic, half genuine smile. It was so unlike Constance, but ever since she had turned ten, all forms of fun seemed to evaporate from her life. It was Miss Drill, she assumed that was bringing out her inner child... The blonde non-witch was packing snow from the desks in her red hands as griselda hurled a snowball at her best friend. The remaining witch snickered silently and Constances snowball flew directly at Imogen with a good force, the victim ducked immediately, and the ball of snow hit a surprised Amelia instead. Absolute horror crossed the potion teachers face, as she bit her lip, swallowing hard. Fenella and Griselda stood awkwardly, dropping the snowballs. Constance dipped her head, blushing softly as she quickly left without a word, Imogen hot on her heels with equal embarrassment.

She had been caught. Immediately she wished she had reprimanded the girls not... Join in with them. She finally knew how her students felt,every time she would send _them _to Miss Cackle. The anxiousness bathing in the pit of her stomach guiltily. Not one of the teachers exchanged a word as they entered the staffroom.

" Well..." Amelia began, not really knowing how to start. Imogen she could almost believe to participate in such ... Exercise. But Constance? Never in her whole life could she even vaguely imagine the scene. Constance could imagine herself and Imogen as Fenella and Griselda being punished by the headmistress, promising herself never ever would she get caught up in things like that as she bit her lip nervously. " I could say I am rather glad to see you're finally getting along " the teachers didn't look at each other but vaguely ahead at Miss Cackle. " A snowball fight ladies? What sort of example is that setting for the girls?" The tall witch shrunk back into her seat, knowing her superior was right. Had Imogen been discussing the topic with any other member of staff, she'd have argued that for the benefits of the girls, it was good for the health and of course a reliable source for fun, but she wouldn't dare to propose such points to the headmistress.

" It won't happen again Miss Cackle" Imogen stated quietly just as a merry Miss Bat came skipping through the door, her robes covered in snow. The other three teachers simply stared, lips slightly parted in was smiling crazily, brushing leftover flakes of snow from her shoulder.

" there's rather a big snowball fight in the halls, winter came early!" exclaiming merrily, the chanting teacher made herself some tea " Rather exciting to have indoor sports, isn't it?" Miss a drill bit back a giggle. Who'd ever seen snow in April?

Having dried herself thoroughly, Constance sat at her desk in her own room, re-plaiting her hair, not bothering to magic it up. She had been ever so embarrassed that Amelia had walked in on her throwing a lousy clump of snow through the air. Worst of all that lousy clump of snow had collided with the headmistress herself! The brunette placed her head in her hands tiredly. How was she supposed to explain such a catastrophe? Miss Drill was certainly not a good influence, not to the girls and definitely not to her. She wasn't sure if she did indeed like the fit sports mistress or not... Those kisses could easily have been from guilt of her actions. But the absurd snowball fight? Loneliness, a desire for fun? Yet, when did Miss Hardbroom ever care about fun? In her eyes it was a distraction from learning. It was the biggest mistake she had ever made, participating in such activities! How could she be so foolish. It was the girls' fault mainly for creating the snow to begin with. But she managed to narrow the blame down to Imogen Drill, if she had left the snow alone... The witch groaned, knowing she was thinking this through way too hard. '_Just forget about it Constance'. _She told herself halfheartedly. There was the softest knock at her door and she looked up slowly. "Yes?"

Imogen tentatively slipped around the door, trying to stop her eyes from darting around the room nosily.

"Urm, C-Miss Hardbroom, the hall outside your classroom is still coated with ice, Mister Blossom will work on it at lunch tomorrow... Miss Cackle said for me to warn you." The non-witch felt slightly like a messenger guy, and couldn't hold the witch's gaze not after the snowball fight. Constance half smirked realising the gym teacher avoided her gaze. It was all the better as her cheeks flared up in remembrance of the actions, and she shook her head to clear her mind.

" Thank you Miss Drill, that is all" the blonde hovered about the doorway for a moment, but when the potion mistress didn't meet her eyes, she left slowly. She had been hoping to converse with the witch, she wanted to talk, but with a feeling Constance had yet again became closed off, Imogen didn't even try, instead heading down to dinner.

The jog in the woods helped as usual. The clear air was heavenly to the gym mistress, despite the first years groans of disapproval, who kept a steady pace alongside the beck that steamed through the majority of the greenery. The class had left as soon as dinner was over, so there was no worry about any growing hunger while on her run. Well, there was a hunger, a hunger for Constance Hardbroom to talk to her, to smile at her again, to hold her close and kiss her again... "Oh dear, what on earth have I come to?" She whispered quietly and stressfully ran her fingers through her short locks, knowing full well her desires were virtually impossible. Her stomach somersaulted as she passed the route where she had been pinned to a tree and almost wished that the witch appeared suddenly, and she knocked her to the ground again... But she never did. Had any of the girl looked back at her they'd have noticed her cheeks painted pink. The non-witch shivered at the thoughts of the thunder storm Constance had rescued her from, and how she had repaid her by squeezing her waist too tightly, a familiar heated sensation rose up the back of her neck, until she forced herself to concentrate on the run.

"Miss Griselda's sprained her ankle," Fenella voice cut through her thoughts as she called to the class to go on ahead. Damn miss Hardbroom to take her medicine! Griselda was perched on a fallen tree trunk, her face twisted with pain, as she whimpered softly.

"Now now, let's see this ankle" Imogen was digging in her rucksack for anything that could be of use when almost magically the first year seemed much better, starting to smile. Confusion blanketed the blonde teachers eyes.

"Miss, we've been thinking" Griselda began slyly as she and Fenella exchanged small smug smiles.

" You need to try a bit harder!" Feverfew continued.

"A bit harder with what girls?" It was as if the snowball fight hadn't occurred between students and teacher, Imogen of course didn't acknowledge the event.

" With HB!" The two spoke in unison, cracking a grin as the gym mistress tried containing the furnaces lighting her ears a shade of red. She blinked twice and stood up.

" I don't know what you are talking about girls, you know rumours such as these are not true." The blonde teacher lectured, regaining her normal self, unable to let Constance Hardbroom get her to this.

" But we saw you,"

"In the rain"

" With HB,"

"In her cloak"

" and the kiss"

"_And _the snowball fight,"

The two girls finished each others sentences and Miss Drill felt defeated, smirking at the shock on their teachers face. "Girls, th-this is private information," the blush had returned to her cheeks.

"Don't worry, Miss, we aren't going to tell anyone," Fenella nodded reassuringly and Imogen relaxed slightly, becoming confused why the duo were telling her all this, unless they enjoyed teasing the teacher. With a deep sigh, the woman continued the conversation.

"Miss Hardbroom is not one with which you can 'try Harder', she's impenetrable, she's practically terracotta," Imogen stated, knowing the woman more like a statue than anything else, which you could just _try harder _with.

" She threw snowballs! Do you think that's natural?" argued Griselda crossing her arms stubbornly.

" Yes, actually, I do." Miss Drill zipped up her bag " I'm sure she simply, joined in the livelihood of the school, besides it was her classroom, she ought to feel free to do whatever she does in her classroom"

"Like kissing the other staff?"

"Fenella!" Imogen exclaimed, before signing " what happened between miss Hardbroom and I is none of your business.

"Oh but it is miss! We aren't telling, so you owe us one," Griselda explained.

"We helped you with the broomstick, _and _got lines for it, you owe us two" Fenella added, counting on her fingers.

"This is absurd!" Muss Drill protested, who ever heard of a teacher _owing _a student... Students. " What could I possibly do for you?"

" we want to be free of our lines and detentions, and chores for the next two months"

" also unlimited access to the advanced area of the library " that part of the library was only allowed to be in use by girls of fourth year and above.

"Plus-"

" that was two!" The gym mistress shouted, before warily looking around in case she had been heard. " I'll have a word with Miss Hardbroom about your detention arrangements. Now, I suggest you catch up with the other girls... Or confinement to your rooms. With the warning in mind, the two first year ran.

Imogen couldn't believe she had been practically blackmailed by the troublesome duo as she took lights out that night, sharing a cruel glare with each girl in turn as they blew out their candle and disappeared under the covers. Finally, Cackles was silent, almost like it was a derelict ruin, not a boarding school for young witches. Miss Drill strolled down the third year corridor again swinging her whistle that hung around her neck.

With too much to think about, Constance decided a deep sleep potion was in order, not needing her thoughts to plague her mind through the night as well. It was times like this when the potion mistress's thoughts would be terrible and all over the place, and her thoughts for that night, were wondering if Cackles would be better if the non-witch hadn't turned up at all.

Miss Drills thoughts were fixed on the girls, wondering if they really would tell. It was childish, and very inaccurate, Constance and herself were nothing but colleagues, and the thought of how Miss Hardbroom would react...the very notion made her shiver.

" Ah, thunder girl" Constance appeared so close behind her, Imogen could feel the luxurious warm breath tingle the back of her neck. " Why are you up so late?" The potions teacher didn't offer a smile.

" I'm on lights out... " the blonde replied catching her whistle " I could ask you the same question. Oh and before I forget, there's something we need to talk about..." The witch winced at the lexical choices of 'we' she hated being part of a 'we'.

" Very Well miss Drill, I suppose you'd enjoy accompanying me in my classroom unless you would prefer to converse here in the hall?" Imogen tried deciding what she hated more ' miss drill' or 'thunder girl' but the thought made her smile.

" what exactly are you grinning so wildly over Miss Drill?" A faint blush spread through the gym teacher as they neared the classroom.

" nothing..." She whispered, " I don't suppose you'd, Ah!" The non-witch shrieked softly, losing her balance as her foot slipped on the ice Mr Blossom hadn't moved. It was an awkward moment when green and brown eyes locked, before Imogen slipped, unintentionally catching the brunette's arm to steady herself... Constance was pulled over. And Imogen landed on her back accidentally pulling the witch down who fell on top of her. Immediately the Constance began to detach herself from the blonde, but Imogen's arms had caught her in a vice like grip around her waist. Shocked, the deputy head stared at the woman beneath her, the long hazelnut hair draped in an elegant curtain, surrounding them. The pale skin of the witch reflected the moonlight from the halls glassless windows, so the witch was practically glowing.

" this is highly... Unacceptable, " Constance whispered in shallow breaths, but even as Imogens grip softened, she didn't move away.

" So, you'd rather converse here in the hall?" The non-witch smirked softly, craning her neck to softly meet the dark lips that hovered above her. For a moment miss Hardbroom didn't react, knowing she certainly shouldn't, mustn't! Couldn't! But she kissed her back anyway, slowly but ravenously.

" what did you want to talk to me about miss Drill? " again the witch whispered. Imogen's lithe fingers ran softly over her cheek, a small breath escaping the women.

"My back's cold" the blonde whimpered, and Constance gently pulled them both up from the icy floor. No sooner had she done this was Imogen wrapped up in her arms, pressing her lips firmly against Constance Hardbroom. And secretly, both of them thanked the unexpected snow in April.


	7. I think I might love you

_**A/N a shorter chapter... Because my mind is blank with ideas, I've got writers block, so I'll need a while to figure out the next chapter, but here goes.. Slightly boring chapter, which was really hard to stay awake through but this was written at 2 am, do forgive me, and I promise there is better than this.. Xx R&amp;R **_

The wide awake potion was long forgotten from that moment on. With one warm and delicate hand wrapped around Imogens waist, Constance guided the preoccupied blonde backwards into her classroom, the other hand shutting the door after them. Their lips were seared fiercely together, the potion mistresses dark lipstick clashed upon the non-witch's lips, against her tanned skin. The P.E teacher's arms encircled around the witches waist, pulling her close as she poured loving passion into the kiss. Miss Hardbrooms scent was intoxicating to the younger woman, who lavished upon the cool, pale skin of her neck. Their lips met firmly again, muffling the quiet moans that escaped their slightly open mouths. Constance kept pushing her back, further and further until her hips came in line with the desks. With her usual hand gesture, the cauldrons and sorts vanished, lest they fall, and Amelia come down to investigate, to be sure her deputy head wasn't unintentionally hurting her staff again. Miss Drill had to stand on her toes to sit up on the desks, to better reach the witches height snaking her tanned arms around the brunette's neck, she softly pulled her closer, till the blonde was practically laying on the desk and the potion teacher blanketed the woman's body warmly. The non-witches hands cupped her colleagues pale cheeks softly, bringing her in for another kiss which she accepted immediately, dark painted lips not leaving her own. A low moan was elicited from the witch's lips as Imogen drill kissed her firmly, constance pushing the younger woman into the desks. Even after the passion filled kiss, short kisses were exchanged feverly and heated, still regaining breath. The non-witch was trapped with Miss Hardbrooms hands by her hips, and the thin, perfect body denying her access to sit up. Softly, the blonde gasped feeling the lips kiss her neck, finding her pulse, leaving a long lasting heavy kiss on the spot, that sent the gym teachers heart rate flying. She whimpered gently, tangling her fingers in the witches dark elegant hair, running her hands effortlessly through the sleek locks Constance shuddered lightly a smile gracing her lips as her eyes fluttered closed at the desirable feeling. As the potion mistress was disstracted, Imogen brought her lips ravishingly up against their dark lips, catching the witch off guard.

" Constance, I... I like this" Greatly satisfied, Constance Hardbroom grinned. So did she. Suddenly she was confused. She could possibly be allowed to like something so wrong something so rule breaking, what is a student found out or miss Cackle, shed sure be sacked! She wouldn't take that risk not for Imogen. Rather startled, the witch became the teacher everyone knew her as and stood back up on the floor, not on the table, frantically looking around, panicking not sure what to do before vanishing. At least that's what it looked like to a defeated looking Imogen drill. Yet, the potion teacher couldn't leave her, she was a beautiful woman after all, even if watching her whilst she was invisible was what students would class as creepy, Constance calmed herself and watched the non-witch a moment.

" I think... I think I might love you..." The blonde woman whispered. With a heart broken sigh, Imogen left the potions classroom and shocked the teacher prized her eyes from the doorway where Imogen had just left.

"I think I might love you too..."

There are plenty of things Imogen would not want to experience at ten to seven in the morning, for example, an earthquake, or all students out of bed, wearing their ties around their head, or an elephant rampaging through the corridor, or even Constance Hardbroom, waiting for her outside her door.

After having come back from her run, Imogen changed her top to something a bit cooler, indeed it was warmer out now it was spring. Just as she left for the staffroom Miss Hardbroom made her presence known. The gym mistress hadn't noticed the witch waiting outside her room, and she jumped startled.

"Miss Hardbroom! You startled me!" The potions teacher bit back a smirk seeing the woman jump like that.

"I recall you had said that there was something you wished to discuss with me," the non-witch smiled gently, before she realised she would have to tell the witch about the two trouble makers seeing them kiss in the rain...

"Come in," the blonde didn't wait for an answer, picking up the heap of clothes from her chair, dumping them on the duvet, kicking the sport magazines under the bed. The potion mistress, perched stiffly on the edge of the chair, waiting to be enlightened. " you may want to reconsider those detentions you gave Feverfew and Blackwood..." She gulped. " they had seen our return to cackles that rainy day, and they said they wouldn't tell if you deprived them of their chores and detentions, oh, and the advanced section of the library." The non-witch recalled, sitting cross legged at the foot of her bed. Constance's eyes narrowed, her index and little fingers touching as she rest her forehead against her fingers.

" Let me get this straight, Miss Drill, two first years, manipulated you to feel threatened by their empty accusations?"

The words stung.

" I... miss Hardbroom, I do not underestimate the girls, they are capable of a lot more than I expected!"

"like getting you caught up in their twisted plans?"

"What was I supposed to say? If word got it about that situation -,"

"That situation, Miss Drill, Never happened" Constance cut in, horrified that the girls had practically threatened a member of staff.

" I... What?" Imogen sat up confused. Inwardly, Miss Hardbroom regretted what she had said, she didn't want the situation to never had occurred but she didn't want the young witches to to take advantage of the sports mistress. She never got an answer as miss Hardbroom disappeared.

The non-witch certainly looked deflated the whole day, from breakfast till lights out, not a proper smile gracing her lips. She was lost in her thoughts, and both of these had caught the girls' attention.

"Say, Grissy, you notice anything off with miss drill?" Fenella whispered to her blonde friend sat on her bed. She was smiling smugly

" you bet I did,"

" I think we ought to help her out,don't you?"

" of course" she added looking forward to their ideas...

Fenella and Griselda were tired that morning after a late night of planning, going through their routines, so thanks to their lack of sleep, tears seemed to come naturally. A whole night of dedication was devoted to their secret pairing, Imogen Drill and Constance Hardbroom. Despite how much sobbing irritated the potion mistress, the heart breaking cries were enough to capture her attention, as Griselda wept out in the hall, her usual companion nowhere to be seen. For a moment the witch stood rather unsure how to act in the presence of a crying first year.

"...Griselda Blackwood..." She inhaled softly, the blonde looking up to her with red eyes. She never had to deal with emotional situations, and honestly couldn't respond. " whatever is the matter?"

Over the other side of the school Fenella dug her nails into her palms bringing forth stinging tears to her eyes as she tied the laces to her trainers, sniffing loudly wiping her eyes. Miss Drill had them out on a run again in the morning and the rush of cool air made her eyes water, refusing to blink, tears formed in her brown eyes. Finally she shut her eyes tight, forcing the tears to Stroll down her cheeks, letting loose a whimper as her teacher passed. Imogen stopped immediately.

"Fenella. Fenella what's wrong?" The blonde teacher was concerned as she began walking beside her student who tried to hide her fake tears, as if they were real.

" It... It's Griselda and... And I. W-we..."

" we're not f-friends anymore " Griselda stammered wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she sat uncomfortably in Miss Hardbrooms classroom, still rather frosty. "We argue... Sometimes, a-and, we're too different"

"We... We're too different Miss Drill" Griselda explained as she shook softly, opting to sit at the base of a tree instead of continuing the run, fearing her legs would give way. " she's so bossy, she thinks she's born to be above me." Imogen sat herself next to her student and thought to herself.

" You know Fenella, some people can feel one thing one day and another tomorrow, "

" but that doesn't mean she hates you forever" Constance explained, trying to comfort her first year.

" everyone is accepted and loved even if they don't show it. Youre special to her, no matter what she let's you see, she still cares for you." The gym mistress told the brunette softly, who looked up to her with sad eyes.

" how can you tell?" Fenella whispered knowing everything was going according to plan.

" because when somebody loves you, " the witch didn't know where her words were coming from " no matter how many fights you have between you, being close to someone doesn't mean never arguing, it means that after you argue, you realise just how wrong you were..." Her voice faltered. So often she had felt that way after arguing with the non-witch, especially after that morning, Knowing Imogens point was relevant.

" being close to someone means seeing past the faults, that being yourself is always enough to them even if they don't seem to appreciate you..." Miss Drill almost started to cry at her own words, she never wanted to be herself in fear Constance would hate her.

" Being close to someone -" Miss Hardbroom began

" - means trying your best- " Imogen told Fenella

" - to make sure the other is- " a moment passed before the staff spoke again

" happy..." Both teachers said in totally different places at the exact same time, and they realised, that they were hardly trying...

Fenella and Griselda knew they had achieved their missions. They got the teachers to admit it to themselves.

The two staff members could help but think of the other after that, and Imogen almost skipped to the staff room for lunch, and Constance shocked the woman again, this time she didn't scare the non-witch, but instead smiled at her.

"Its good to see you two aren't bickering again" Amelia exclaimed dipping her roll into her soup, as Imogen sat beside the potion teacher.

The two younger staff exchanged glances, soft smiles, and Constance felt herself calm greatly.

Yet both women tingled as their fingers brushed under the table, before their hands entwined.


	8. A Friendly Tea

_**A/N really happy I've made it to chapter eight! thanks for the encouragement read and review xxx**_

Davina had lights out that night, so thankfully both witch and non-witch had the serene night off, and that's when they snuck down to the school kitchens. Well Imogen snuck, Constance just appeared out of nowhere... As usual. The potion teacher was in her usual purple satin night clothes her dark silky hair flowing elegantly down her back, and a light smile pinching at her lips. Miss Drill however did _not _wear night clothes, and never really had. She wore a grey shirt that was several sizes too big, that draped loosely on her shoulders and fell over her hips, and also light blue shorts that were just visible, barely peeking out from under the top. They were the most comfortable clothes in her wardrobe that she often slept in and to be wearing them around Constance... It surprised her that neither of them really minded. The p.e teacher had contemplated whether or not to brush her hair neatly back or just leave it as she always did. She had decided to give the first option a shot, just so miss Hardbroom would not think she was completely stubborn... But her hair was. In the end after lots of frustrating methods to try neaten up, she decided on the later, and hoped the witch wouldn't mind her looking like she had just fallen out of bed. Upon the brunettes orders, Miss Tapioca had left out a small assortment of food on the small table, and then she had invited Imogen, who, though terribly confused agreed immediately. The witch pulled out a chair and beckoned the gym mistress to sit, and blushing lightly, she did.

"I want to make it up to you, after the past six weeks of complete havoc, I offer you my apologies, and ... Gratitude for the goodness you've brought to Cackles," Constance smiled weakly.

The Italian cook had so suddenly started a record machine in the corner that, to the witches horror, was a romantic record, that was supposed to, as the cook liked to say " set the atmosphere " but after Miss Hardbroom shot her a warning, quizzical look, she took the needle of the disc and there was silence, as she retreated back to her room, leaving the two staff alone.

" Dinner, music and candlelight... If I knew this was going to be a date I'd have dressed better" Miss Drill joked and mused, laughing softly. The potion teacher, opened her mouth to reply with some sarcastic remark but stopped, thankful that her hair covered her red ears.

" A date, Miss Drill, is so much different from what I'd like to call a friendly tea" the blonde woman smirked as she stabbed the fish with her fork, trying not to giggle.

" Oh, don't disappoint me Constance! I'm rather enjoying my little fantasy" at that the witch laughed, a low rich pure thrill that sent warm vibes run through any living creature.

" I can assure you Miss Drill-"

"Imogen" the woman cut in with a smug grin.

" - That if by some odd Miracle that I ever decided to take you on a 'date', as you call it, it would not be in the former dungeons! ... Miss Drill" she added slyly, sipping the wine the miss Tapioca had left out for them. The blondes cheeks grew warm as she let her gaze fall upon her food.

" So, why, why the change of heart Constance? " Imogen looked up to her uncertainly.

" I was having a little chat with miss Blackwood. I came to realise that had I been a student, my behaviour towards another was intolerable and unacceptable, and I want to say I'm... " she bit her lip softly " I wish to be able to turn over a new leaf." Sorry hardly ever passed her stone cold lips, not that she didn't like saying she was sorry but... Mainly didn't know how to, she was too proud for that.

Constance didn't really eat much, but had stripped the few grapes from their branches, and after a moment of uneasy silence, the witch, despite her previous decisions started the record player again, watching the record spin, without even having to move from her chair. The perks of being a witch. Imogen was the happiest she had been in Cackles, and found her eyes glued to watching the potion mistress's every move.

" Am I really that fascinating, Miss Drill?" The blonde blushed and dropped her gaze, she hasn't known Constance could see her gazing.

" It's just that, you're glowing... In the light I mean. The candles.. You're not actually glowing... I mean you _are _glowing but ... Oh nevermind " her cheeks blazed red, stumbling over her words like a blind person. It was ravishing to see a little colour present in Constance Hardbrooms features. She actually chuckled softly at the P.E teacher's words, hoping the candlelight was too dim to highlight the soft blush.

" Well... Thank you, Miss... Imogen," for a little while Constance listened to the elegant music, a flowing orchestra that made miss Bats music sound like a two year being introduced to a violin for the first time. It had been a long time since miss Hardbroom had felt so calm and relaxed, and let a soft grin slip onto her lips as she stood up, the green eyes following her persistently till the witch stopped right in front of her, extending a pale, delicate hand in her direction. After a confused moment that felt like hours the girl took her hand, and was pulled softly up. The potion mistress laid her hand on the non-witch's waist, causing Miss Drill to stiffen slightly, before they softly swayed towards the music. Imogen faltered, letting go of the witches hand and shoulder, as she bit her lip gently, looking ashamed. A confused quizzical look was clear in Constance's features, and the girl sighed, explaining weakly.

" I can't dance... I don't know how... I never have before." Imogen was the only one who didn't join in the oyster pearl ball, she avoided everyone, because she couldn't dance, and had been accused of having two left feet. Her brother could dance, he was more of a street dancer than anything else, but she? She could dance as well as a rhino on steroids. It was a talent she had always wanted but never got, and she was ashamed that she never was able to fulfill such wishes.

The potion mistress thought a moment, a sympathetic feeling creeping through her veins. She never really knew what it was like not to be able to do things... She was a witch after all. Her dark painted lips pursed precisely.

"Come here" she encouraged quietly, and after a risky moment of thought Imogen took ahold of the soft cold hand once more, and within seconds, Constance had pulled the smaller girl onto her toes, bringing them considerably closer together. Miss Drills heart pounded frantically as her hand nervously slid back up onto her shoulder, as the witch began moving warmly to the music, and Imogen went with her, sincerely hoping she wasn't hurting her feet.

It was amazing! Truly! For once, the non-witch wasn't tripping up or tripping over, as she balanced on top of her feet. Once the blonde was reassured that she would not slip, her gaze lifted from the floor and up to see Constance Hardbroom fixing her a warm gaze that made her chocolate eyes soften and sparkle. For some reason, Imogen had never expected that the witch could dance, but she could, and after a little round of laughing in joy, the blonde lightly rest her head against her chest, able to hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Then it clicked. She was dancing with Constance. Constance! Of all people! The record kept playing and miss Hardbroom had secured Imogen in a warm, protective embrace, feeling her stomach flutter as a weary head fell to her chest.

" This is... This is magical" Imogen exhaled deeply, nestling into the woman, with their hands still perfectly in each others. The non-witch started to softly rub her shoulder, as she looked up to the deputy headmistress.

" well, there are enough logical explanation to figure why." The brunette mused calmly as she danced slowly with a light Gym mistress on her feet.

" Constance?"

" yes?"

" please, promise you won't ever ignore me again... I can't cope being unable to see you." Imogen mumbled softly, almost pleading with round eyes.

" I promise... I promise..." She whispered reassuringly as the record ended, and the non-witch stumbled off her toes, managing to stifle a yawn.

Despite the record had ended and their hands had slipped from one another's, plus Miss Drills hand had slipped from her shoulder, the potion teachers arm was still snaked around the woman waist, preventing her from leaving ( which, she had already clarified, did not want to leave).

Neither woman wanted to leave when the heat radiated from their lips, fresh soft rosy lips met the warm, tingly burgundy. Two seconds later, they were both sharing a seat. The gym mistress had caught Constance's cheeks in her hands, their lips catching slowly but heatedly, as the witch held Imogen close to make sure she didn't fall off the chair. It surprised the witch that how just one kiss could satisfy her longing, and as they broke apart, she still held the girl close protectively. Imogen's face screwed up tightly as she stifled a yawn that merged with a shiver as the deputy's lithe fingers trailed across her sun-kissed cheek. As the non-witch nuzzled into the crook of her neck, Constance sighed quietly with a hidden smile.

" Someone's tired," she pecked her forehead with a featherlight kiss, deciding she was going to give this whole ' _love _' thing a chance, what harm could come? Well... _Everything, _she thought. Two women teachers one witch one not, its not the average match you'd find in a normal novel in your library. Imogen didn't even answer but made herself comfortable in the witch's robe. In a flash, the scenery had changed and the dimly lit kitchen was replaced by the blanket of darkness of Imogens room.

" that feels ... wicked!" Miss Drill exclaimed, the odd feeling of transporting from place to place, it was immense! Still the girl buried her nose into the witch comfortably, as constance laid her down with a small sense of de ja vu. As she was about to stand up, Imogen caught her arm to prevent from doing so, keeping her close. "Please stay"

After a second of consideration the elder witch sighed softly and let a gentle smile grace her pale lips. " Alright, I'll stay" the brunette sidled up next to the smaller woman, tentatively laying on the sheets, with slight nerves of falling over the side, the bunk hadn't been made for two fully grown women. Ever so gently the blonde caressed her cool, chalk white cheek, as she thought. " Constance, remember that night when you... When I fell onto the shelves? Well... What happened? Why, or how did you... How come you had ended up in such a circumstance?"

"So in modern English, you were wondering why I was having a nightmare?" The witch muttered, as she laid on her side, inspecting her colleague, whose emerald eyes were only half open, brushing her fringe out the way.

"I was hoping to put it a little less conspicuous," the non-witch admitted, grinning at the gesture as she shuffled closer into her embrace, the heat radiating from the two was so soothing.

By some miracle, The potion mistress did not seem too cautious about it by now, she was growing into the girl's presence, getting used to it all. Still she did look pretty tired, and knew she ought to be quick.

" My personal tutor...mistress Hecketty Broomhead, believed harsh physical discipline was the way to teach her student, and for every minor fault came a huge consequence. She often hurt me, because she could always fault me, she made me who I am today" Imogen had been playing with a lock of long dark hair, twisting it in her fingers, when her eyes displayed a tired horror as she disregarded the hair and grasped her hand instead.

" Constance, I'm so sorry... I may just be a non-witch, but I won't let anyone hurt you again! And I'll never find fault in you! " Constance only laughed debatingly, doubting that she could actually ward off old Hecketty Broomhead. " I mean it... I promise that as long as I live you'll never have to be afraid." The words struck the witch right in that it hurt, meaning so much to the deputy headmistress.

" th-thank you imogen, such words have not gone unnoticed" she whispered softly, stroking her cheek.

" I... I think I love you" the gym mistress mumbled .

"For as long as I can remember, I thought the response to that was 'oh dear' but now, I believe the answer is ' I think I may love you to,'" Imogen couldn't hide the beam that lit up her whole face. She was roo happy to come up with any form of reply, so she just cuddled up to the witch, still impressed she was allowed to do so. Constance Hardbroom planted a sweet kiss on her forehead, holding the sleepy, smiling non-witch in her arms, till she drifted of.

_I love her, I'm sure, I really do love her. _The witch thought to herself as she gazed upon the radiant face that she often so secretly admired.

_And she loves me too._


	9. slides and ski trips

**_A/N So its a lovely magical holidays for our witches coming up, and after a nice holiday, well have a bit more Fenny and Gris, and then we'll have milded! Enjoy xxxx R&amp;R_**

Blossom broke out in volcanic displays of pale pink and snowy white flowers decorating every tree, as a thin spring breeze blew light and cheerfully, singing a melodic tune to the girls as they skipped down the hall. As each pearly white flower bloomed the courtyard almost resembled a garden, as the trees woke up from their slumber, their buds welcoming spring eagerly. The change in scenery set an enthusiastic vibe within the pupils as they felt more and more passionate and joyful, with the colour around. Even Constance Hardbroom had a slight spring in her step... Well nobody blamed that on the springtime, she had been a lot more cheerful since the night she had spent with the non-witch a whole two weeks ago. Not only did the outburst of colour and fragrance excite the girls, but also that they were about to start their mid year holiday signifying that half the year had already passed, though to the staff, it seemed like only a term ago miss Blackwood and miss feverfew had entered cackles like a stunt circus act. Six weeks at each girls home and cackles would be empty. The sun beat radiantly down, warming the atmosphere, with not a cloud trespassing on the sapphire sky, and the morning brewed a fresh start, as all remnants of the previous day were forgotten.

Yet somewhere inside Cackles Academy, there was less peace as displayed everywhere else as two eager girls struggled with their suitcases.

" Ouch! That was my foot! "

" its not my fault, your book case was in the way!"

" Can't we just make this easier?" Griselda exclaimed, dropping her bags and sitting at the top of the stairs. " How are we supposed to be expected to shift all this dead weight down all these stairs?"

Fenella sat beside her blonde friend, reopening her book case. " I read your book that you had put aside to read after that one... There was something in here..." It was unfair that the girls had to hand carry luggage down four flights of stairs, so when the young witch flicked through the pages, her companion complied immediately.

" Ah! This is amazing!" The two girls stood up, their bags and case balanced on the steps.

" together?" Griselda asked, not even doubting the spell.

" together" feverfew confirmed, as she held open the book.

" stairs slidus, slippus transformus, transport glidus!"

The third years were still half asleep when Imogen encouraged them out of bed, reminding them that it was officially holidays, and they should be getting ready to leave. Still, the students mainly groaned tiredly, barely acknowledging her entrance. The second years above them were bound to still be asleep and Miss Drill took the stairs two at a time.

The problem with Amelia was that Constance could never just appear in her office, however much fun it is to scare Miss Bat, Miss Hardbroom would never like to startle the headmistress. Besides, her office was only on the second floor, it wouldn't hurt to manage the stairs. Using the railings, Constance glided up the steps, glad to see the students were not making mischief. She thought too soon. The wood folded into itself, creating a smooth untainted surface, turning the stairs to one long wooden slide. A small shriek was emitted from the dark painted lips as she was caught sliding back down. A dazed deputy head sat at the bottom of the former stairs where she had been recently before looking back up, biting her lower lip to refrain from laughing. A blonde non-witch followed her suit, sliding down, but she was smiling brightly, and sighing upright like she was on a regular slide on a playground.

" Miss Hardbroom!" She exclaimed in surprise, suddenly knocking into the potion mistress, who couldn't help but let loose the chuckle that had been lurking on her lips.

" Miss Drill," the witch took a quick cautious glance around before softly pecking the girls forehead as she helped her up.

" Sliding, huh? I do admit this to be the first circumstance like this that I have seen." The gym mistress grinned, her tanned complexion was golden as the sun shone through the glassless window.

" and we can quickly jump to conclusions on the culprits." The two teachers had to quickly separate. Had they stayed a second longer they'd both have been knocked down by an old case. It was shortly followed by an open book chest, several bags and two girls, arm in arm, sliding down the stairs with beams on their faces.

" Miss Drill! Miss Hardbroom!" Fenella stated in pure shock, jumping to her feet.

" Had it been up to me girls, had a detention not sufficed, you'd both be going home, and not coming back... However under extraordinary circumstances that I am not obliged to discuss, I refrain from punishing either of you, now pick up these bags!" Constance barked, as her cheeks gained a little colour. The fact that she couldn't discipline the girls was haunting her, as they often seemed to try test the limitations.

_" Yes, miss" _they both chanted as if they were in one of Miss Bats ridiculous lessons, before quickly retreating under the cruel glare of Constance Hardbroom.

With her index and little finger, the witch transformed the stairs back to its previous self, as gladly, the two staff member resumed their tasks.

" So, what're you doing in the holidays Miss Hardbroom,"

" Well, I'm staying here, somebody ought to keep the place in shape, after all it is not like I would be gallivanting around the globe now would I?" Constance stated sarcastically earning a grin from the gym mistress. " And yourself?"

Imogen thought a moment with a gentle frown. " I'll be going on the traditional skiing trip with my family... Well Janice and Michael." She had one lavished upon the times she went on the holidays, knowing they were the best thing in the whole world. Every holiday her mother, father herself and her brother would take a plane to Switzerland. Yet, the resort and even the activity had all its amusement stripped away ever since her brother went missing so many years ago. Now, Imogen didn't find so much thrill in sliding down snowy slopes.

" How exciting" the witch commented, though there was not one aspect on the woman's features to prove she actually did find the sport exciting at all. Still, she was talking to her, and that was enough. The potion mistress turned off into the hall to see Miss Cackle and the two members of staff exchanged small smiles.

" I can assure you Miss Cackle, I take great pleasure in being alone, I find it is a true quality to be so serene and I can get some things done, I won't be bored. I have a lot of books I can busy myself in if it comes to it" Amelia Cackle sighed and sat back in her armchair, not approving of her colleagues decision to stay by herself in the school.

" Now listen Constance, surely would want to see more than the walls of the Academy, why don't you take a nice trip somewhere? Miss Bat's even visiting Crete for her holidays. You can't get any better than Greece. Maybe you can accompany her?" The deputy headteacher's brow shot up, a look of horror swimming in her dark eyes. There was no chance she would spend the holidays with the Bat. " Alright, that was a bit too absurd..."

" Miss Cackle, I am perfectly capable of enjoying my time here, I will be perfectly fine on my own." Again the headmistress sighed, and put up a melancholy resentment.

Many third years were heaving luggage down the stairs when Imogen was begging the fourth years to get out of bed, and she even passed a second year begging an elder witch to teach her how to make her bags lighter. However, after the first magical attempt to make the job easier, Miss Drill had told her to have enthusiasm, after all a bit of weight lifting wouldn't hurt. She herself needed to pack her own bags, before she had to cycle home to get a plane with her parents, and to be frank, the non-witch couldn't have cared less. Instead an uneasy sympathy grew in her stomach for the witch who would stay at Cackles Academy over the holidays. She would pack today, rest the night and start bright and early the next morning. It was a perfect plan just... not a perfect holidays. There was not much better than the good old procrastination, as the non-witch dumped herself on her bed, running her fingers through the honey coloured hair. It had grown an inch and with a smile, she decided she'd ask Constance to cut it for her later. The girl kicked of her hard trainers and laid back on her bed, picking up her old phone. She knew wholeheartedly Amelia bad encouraged her to leave it at home, but her distressed mother had ordered her to take it for precaution. She hadn't used it all this time except to wake her every morning at quarter to six, and to check the time, when she was bored. Lordy if Constance ever saw her with that thing, it'd vanish instantly!

Yet there was something different about the screen today. Inbox 1. From Janice.

Great. Imogen rolled her eyes, she never called her mother "mother" or "mom" just Janice, ever since her brother went missing, Imogen mind went wild and didn't trust her parents as much as she used to.

'_We're so looking forward to seeing you sweetheart, x'_

" stop bluffing," the non-witch grumbled, hardly acknowledging the woman's lies. She slammed the phone shut, as soon as she memorised the time 10.28. She had a full hour before the girls leave the school. Picking up her magazines, she flipped carelessly through the pages, but she couldn't shake the anxious feeling in her gut, she didn't want to go with Janice or Michael. She'd rather go stay with Davina!

Twenty seconds later the bored girl was hovering outside the deputy heads room tentatively, she didn't like this feeling, and she knew that Constance could always make her feel something better.

A small knock.

Constance Hardbroom had Imogens soft nervous knock memorised, and forced herself to hide the grin, as she sat in her chair with a book perched in her hand " Yes?" The gym mistress didn't know what she ought to say? ' _I felt blue so I'm coming to see you because you're beautiful and make em feel happy?_' Of course, because that _surely_ wouldn't earn her a glare. The witch inhaled sharply noting the woman's sloppy posture and caution printed firmly into her features. "Imogen! ... Something's wrong." The gym mistress slunk into the room warily.

"How did you know?" Even her normally powerful voice stemmed deflated and empty.

" I'm a witch" she joked softly, shutting her book immediately and sat the non-witch down on her bed, sitting beside her supportively. "Whatever's the matter?" they were barely an inch apart, and for the first time ever, the closeness was not even on Miss Drill's mind.

"I don't want to go on holiday with my parents" she muttered distantly. Sure, they were nice people, and she loved them, but they were merely strangers who were possibly criminals. Yes it had occurred to her that they had no partake in her brother absence but she had learned to cope without anybody.

Constance waited patiently for any further information but when none was forthcoming, she took her colleagues light hand in her own, to prompt her on.

_The crisp leaves had mostly fallen, littering the ground with golds and browns and reds, stripping the trees bare and naked. The sun shone through the empty branches and blessed the two children playing in the autumn fall. Imogen's long blonde hair was full of little crispy bits of leaf,but she didn't care as she laughed brightly. Marcus' floppy black hair hung half over his face, before he carelessly brushed it back, helping his little sister up after he had chased her so much she had became dizzy and had fallen over her too big boots. The shiny red boots had belonged to him, and she had blatantly refused to wear anything else, even if they didn't fit. Janice was suddenly there, her curly golden hair grapes over one shoulder as she knelt down to face her daughter. " would you fetch daddy his glasses?" She had spoken in her thin softly sugar coated voice. She had bounded off without question and within moments and returned to the large back garden holding her father's glasses, confused when she saw her mother sitting dumbfounded among the leaves. Ten year old Imogen laughed to herself and started looking behind the trees. "Ready or not, here I come!" She shouted, simply thinking Marcus was playing hide and seek again, but then she frowned, when she couldn't find him, and he didn't jump out at her. Every night onwards she pondered over how her brother went missing and even when the boots were just a little too small, she refused to wear anything else._

"So you think your parents have some involvement in your brother's disappearance?" Constance enquired curiously. Imogen merely shrugged and sighed, catching a crystal tear before it fell, and before she knew it, the potion mistress was cradling her comfortingly in her arms. " ssh, you have a right to be cautious. " still the brunette thought about it. It wasn't an ordinary turn events for a thirteen year old boy to go missing like that. And her poor Imogen... _HER_ poor Imogen?! What was she thinking. " Stay with me... Stay here instead." Although she was doing the non-witch a favour by asking her to stay, she was inwardly pleading for her not to go. She would love to spend the Holidays in the Academy with Miss Drill. The blondes eyes lit up like lanterns, glowing a dazzling green.

" Really? I mean, you wouldn't mind my presence here?"

"I manage every day!" She grinned and enveloped the younger woman into a reassuring hug.

Imogen bit her lip as she flipped open her phone, reopening the text. '_So sorry, I can't make it, bye x' _it was a stupid text, but she switched off the device and buried it in a draw before laying back with a beam on her face. She was in an old castle, alone with Constance Hardbroom...

" Again? Haven't you any idea how to cut your own hair?" the witch drawled that night when the non-witch turned up in her oversized shirts and shorts, brandishing her scissors, but she complied without a fuss, rather enjoying the fact she got to see more of the woman.

" I'm afraid not, you didn't exactly give me a tutorial on my first night" she reminded cheekily as she perched on the stool, grinning wildly.

The scissors in her right hand, Miss Hardbroom ran her fingers sweetly through the golden locks, causing the girl to emit a gentle sigh and each muscle in her body relax. Instead of cutting her hair though, she continued to sift the hair through her lithe fingers, lightly stroking the short hair thoroughly. Imogen tilted her head back slightly, adoring the attention as the witch had put down the scissors and had tangled her other hand in her hair, a soft tug causing her to unintentionally moan in delight, her eyes fluttering closed. Before she knew it, Constance had tilted her head further backwards until she kissed her forehead warmly. Imogen drill rotated herself to face the stunning witch, and neither of them had to be told or had to be asked to meet in a fiery kiss, a burning love setting her soul alight as the hands in her hair made her heart leap. The P.E teacher wrapped her tanned arms around the deputy head teachers unfairly skinny waist and pulled her close, the rattling of the keys she wore on her belt was the only sound beside their heavy breaths intermixing.

The sky had turned from dark blue to black by the time the two women decided to part their lips and Imogen's usually pale lips had been smudged with dark red lipstick.

As the witch took her hair out of her bun, letting the chocolate river run down her back, she nestled between her sheets.

" Are you just going to stand there Miss Drill? Go to bed!" She laughed softly as the giddy woman hadn't moved.

" alright" still, the blonde went to bed... But had slipped in next to the witch. Constance hadn't protested like Imogen expected she would've, but had snaked her arms around her and pulled her closer, marvelling at the wonderful warmth. She his a smile, as she wondered what the holidays were going to hold for them both. Imogen knew she would have two-hundred angry texts from Janice in the morning, but a holiday with Constance would always be best.

Imogen felt so at home in the witched arms and she fell asleep with a smile printed on her lips. Constance Hardbroom watched the girl in silence as she pecked her forehead.

" Yes, I do think I might love you." She whispered and blew out her candle.


	10. Snow in April pt 2

Imogen Drill was confused when she woke up, reaching her hand across the sheet that was unbearably cold. A familiar musky jasmine scent surrounded her as she nuzzled the soft pillow with her nose. The it clicked. This was not her bed. Dazed, the non-witch sat up, forcing her blurry emerald eyes open. Rows upon rows of bookshelves littered the walls, heavy dark blackout curtains draped all the way to the floor, a dark mury red carpet laid across the floor, giving the room a significant warmth. There was a border of bright light around the curtains signalling that her precious night was over, but the girl beamed brightly. It was officially the holidays and she was sharing them with Constance Hardbroom. Constance! Why wasn't she still there with her? The witch was sitting in the armchair, her chestnut hair tied back in a simple braid. She was looking at her fully with a little smile from over the top of her book.

" Good morning Imogen"

" Morning" the girl stretched and yawned, catching sight of her short hair sticking up and looking crazy. She laughed and flattened it with her fingers. " You're up already " she observed pushing herself into a sitting position.

" Yes, I woke early... Plus, I decided that you'd be going on your skiing trip after all." Despite Constance's unregistered smile, the non-witch's heart plummeted.

" you what?" Her voice was filled with disbelief, the potion mistress blatantly _knew _she didn't want to go on the skiing trip with her parents, besides she hadn't packed a thing and by the time she cycled all the way there, she'd have missed the plane.

" oh _relax _Miss Drill," the witch uncurled from herself, and drew back the curtains. The sight confused Imogen greatly. The whole hilltop was coated in a foot of thick, crispy, virgin snow that glistened and glittered brightly reflecting the golden sun.

"_You _did this?" A bewildered gym teacher awed, gasping silently at the crystal snow that shone like many diamonds patterning the surface. It was the second time this spring month when unexpected snow laid in April.

" No a natural heavy snow storm drifted this way overnight, despite the fact it is spring," the tall watch smirked sarcastically. For a moment Constance just stopped to stare in awe. Imogen was kneeling forward on her bed, with the dazing reflection of the sunlit snowy hilltops in her deep emerald eyes. She was radiant in the pillar of sunlight that shone from the window, her tanned complexion glowing like gold. Her great hitched as she couldn't tear her eyes away from the non-witch, she looked so happy. So beautiful. Then he had turned to look at her, and Miss Hardbroom dropped her gaze quickly with a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

Heaven knows why Constance Hardbroom put spring on hold, just so the non-witch could enjoy the original plans of her holiday minus the supposedly criminal parents. It didn't add up, none of it. Why would her own mother kidnap her own son? But surely the woman would be suffering trauma, so she didn't blame her.

The blonde stumbled out of the bed in her oversized, loose top and merrily strode over to the witch, pecking her pale lips. She hadn't come to terms with Imogen's random displays of affection and always wore a slight cover of surprise afterwards.

" Thank you, it's... It's truly splendid!" A whole holiday with the potion teacher... A gentle thrill crept up the walls of her stomachs as she failed to suppress a magnificent grin. Who could predict the for coming events? But not even a prophecy teller could have known that the very significant day would bring a lot more than either had anticipated. Miss Drill stayed still for a moment, loosely holding her arms around Constance's waist, with her head resting on her chest, smiling out at the snowy surroundings.

" That's alright, Miss Drill" the older woman chortled quietly after the small teacher shot her, her best attempt at a stern glare, which was rather difficult when a smile almost split her face. " Didn't you wish for me to cut your hair _again" _she emphasised tucking the blonde locks behind her ear.

" It can wait!" She perked up, springing onto the tips of her toes to plant a for kiss on her cheek. "I'll get dressed," then merrily, she left, leaving a bemused Constance's, smiling and staring after her excited colleague. However much the imagery of Imogen was, skiing in her small shorts, the oversized shirt, flapping around her thin frame, the witch would not be blamed if Amelia returned to find her staff ill with pneumonia or bedridden with frostbite.

This had to be one of the best mornings Imogen Drill had ever experienced. It was top alongside her eighth birthday. She had woken up early that morning from sheer excitement that she was yet, another year older, and assuming the usual routine, everyone else had set their alarm early as well, knowing her tendency to get up for celebrations ( it was the same with Christmas). She tore through the halls like a jet on a runway, pulling open the curtains as she went, exposing the whole hallway to immaculate light. As she exploded into the kitchen, her father was flipping pancakes high in the air like a circus act, and she beamed in delight. They always ate pancakes for her birthday, it marked her favourite day of the year. Her mother embraced her warmly as she whispered that she had a surprise for her. And of course her brother stood there, grinning his usual mischievous grin. "Happy Birthday Immi," and he knelt down, kissed her cheek and held out a box. Her hopes flew high, as she tore off the bright blue wrapping paper, throwing the lid to the side. The trainers! She had first seen the trainers in the shop window, and pressed her nose up against the glass. Her old ones were frayed and the sole flapped when she walked, but her parents couldn't afford everything. Even at a young age, Imogen Drill adored sports, and didn't wait to try them on. She looked odd, standing in the living room, in her brothers top that she slept in ( it was way too big, but made her feel safe) her basketball shorts, and the new dazzling white trainers. She didn't think it could get any better until she was presented with a new basketball. Her brother winked and the two siblings played a perfect game out in the garden before breakfast.

Perfect.

Imogen slipped into full length joggers, a yellow sleeveless shirt with a thick jacket that covered her arms, and spotless, well cleaned trainers. The girl bounced back and forth on her toes and her heels, buzzing with energy as she tied her hair back loosely. _Then _she checked her phone. 10:34. 8 New texts from: Janice. Last received 08:52. 4 Missed calls from: Janice. 3 New voicemails. The non-witch sighed, as she started deleting the texts from her phone without reading them. She has just closed the contraption before the screen lit up again. 1 new text... From Janice. Agitated, she groaned and flipped the thing open again. In perfect spelling, small individual letters Janice had sent her one last text.

Your father and I are very disappointed. We expected more.

She had always been 'mommy's favourite' the way Marcus behaved, and although he had the most fun, and was a good, smart lad, his lies and bribery that gave him so much, took away his respect. Imogen hardly ever lied and was therefore the ' model' sibling. The blonde didn't know how to feel, somewhat relieved, somewhat empty. Yet, she simply shrugged turned off the old phone and wore that bright smile as if nothing happened, as she truly grew excited. Her mother couldn't hinder her now, as a lively spirit roared inside her. For a moment the non-witch perched like a buzzard on the side of her bed looking out to the new scenery. The cutting through the foliage was painted an almost unrecognisable white, where she occasionally jogged, the log crossing over the river was coated in the soft, cotton blanket, and the river beneath was hard as marble. There was no way she could jog in that, despite her high levels of tolerance and enthusiasm. She was snapped from her thoughts by a sharp, unruly knock at her door, before the witch let herself in.

" I did not pause spring for a day so that you'd waste away in your bedroom, up and at it." She commanded, and Imogen didn't have to be told twice as she lifted herself off the bed and marched out the door without question, leaving Constance to shut it behind her.

The deputy headmistress stiffened slightly as the persistent blonde slipped her arm through hers in a height disagreeing link, like the tinman and the barn girl in the well-known classic. Constance just silently prayed she wouldn't start skipping.

Constance had indulged a rather sleepless night, not wanting to drift off to sleep as she knew what often occurred inside her unconscious mind, and to wake up in a sweat, screaming or in tears, beside Miss Drill would be the last thing the witch could tolerate. Twice she had settled upon the idea of getting up to fetch a potion from her classroom, but twice she had dismissed the idea when a certain non-witch snuggled affectionately into her. Being awake through the night, the deputy headmistress had a lot of time on her hands, and found herself questioning her feelings. Imogen drill was her colleague, her _female _colleague, she was also a teacher, teaching at the same school, and was, to complicate matters, a non-witch. It was taboo! Heavens if Amelia even knew a minority of actions that had occurred since the blondes arrival... Surely she would be fired from her position. However... Didn't she always say how wrong it was one day, just to kiss her lustfully the next? The witch was wrapped in a blanket of confusion as she stared down at the woman, fast asleep beside her. Her hand was ever so close to her own, and she had such a strong urge to run her fingers across the delicate skin, to touch. To hold. Even in the dark, Constance could easily distinguish her own pale, porcelain against her golden tanned complexion.

Oh why did she have to stay after she healed her that night with the broomstick incident. Had she left, things would have certainly been easier! She berated herself mentally the whole night. It was only around four in the morning when Imogen had buried her head softly into the crook of the woman's neck that she decided she had _some _sort of feeling for her. As her warm, pleasing breath tickled her neck, Constance brushed the blonde locks from her face and kissed her forehead lightly, letting herself be succumbed into a light slumber.

Having woken only two hours later, the witch wasn't in the best of moods and had the girls been here, she was sure that half the students would have been placed on detention already and fenella and griselda would be kept far away from each other as possible. Yet, she was thankful it was the start of the holidays, as Miss Cackle would currently be reprimanding her that so many lines of '_I must remind myself that education is much more important the my own selfish desires' _was both unnecessary and harsh. Had she been alone within the old walls of Cackles Academy, most likely she'd either be shut away in her classroom, or out handpicking her own herbs to dry out and store. However this had not been the case, and she was voluntarily sharing the holidays with the enthusiastic, somewhat infuriating non-witch.

She really, sincerely had been trying not to strike up an argument during the past week, forcing herself to bite her tongue on more than one occasion, just do Drill could at least see the effort she was making to at least be nicer.

Now as younger woman walked beside her, arm in arm they seemed more like two friends than anything else. Two friends enjoying their holidays with each other. Two friends that dance in the kitchen, ride a broom, share a bed on rare occasions and exchange passionate kisses ... Perfectly normal right. Right?

Those innocent, lively green eyes stared up at her, yet the witch didn't acknowledge the glances, focusing her gaze ahead of her. The eyes were striking and stabbing at her, still, of she wanted her attention she had a tongue in her head, she could use it.

"Are you ignoring me now Constance?" With a shake off her head she let a weak smile play on her lips before vanishing.

" No, I am simply a little tired " she admitted. Tired. It had always been her excuse for as long as she could remember. '_I'm just tired' _

_Tired of continuously being hurt by Mistress Broomhead. Tired of every girls whine or complaint. Tired of Davina's cravings for enthusiasm. Tired of Amelia letting Fenella and Griselda off the hook. Tired of those bright emerald eyes that often made an appearance in her mind._

"I'm fine, I promise" she muttered as she met her gaze for once, surprised to see it laced with concern.

"Is it safe?"

" Yes it's fine!"

" It doesn't look safe."

" There are no sharp bends or anything, its safe, we won't fall "

" Are you sure this is a good idea?"

" Just hold on tight and keep balanced"

" Now where have I heard that before?"

" Exactly! Just like riding a broomstick!"

" apart from the fact I'm standing on my feet! How do I even hold on!"

" My waist Miss Hardbroom"

A moment of silence passed.

" Miss Drill, if you think, that I-"

" Oh come on now Constance you're not twelve you don't need to freak out by the fact you're holding my waist" the blonde chuckled, looking over her shoulder at the witch who was standing stiffly behind her. Tentatively a pale hand slid around her stomach securing herself onto her safely, wrapping her arms around the non-witches waist. How did she possibly let Imogen simply talk her into this?

" Imogen, I don't know how to ski!" She protested profoundly clenching her teeth nervously, making her sharp cheekbones stand out.

" I don't know how to dance," the younger woman pointed out reassuringly. " its okay, I've done this often enough before," Constance composed herself quickly, finding it embarrassing that she was actually nervous, and compiled before she could change her mind.

"Alright" the potion mistress didn't look too bad, had she not been blushing that her arms were around the non-witch, she would be as pale as the snow surrounding her. Had she not been rather nervous and pale, the heavy red blush would have highlighted her cheeks, but as both colours blended, the witch looked as she usually did.

" Hold on it's alright" Imogen smiled digging the ski poles into the snow, pushing herself forward, and from then on the skis moved on their own with no friction between them and the snow, as they flew through the snow with ease. Constance held tightly to her, the speed thrilling er slightly as the long plait whipped her back. Her grip secured even more, and Imogen winced softly, wondering if this is how she had been like, that thundery morning. The non-witch swerved swiftly with a triumphant grin. She and Marcus always competed, going as fast as they could and more often than not, Imogen won. She bent her knees a little, and laughed. The witch softened slightly as Imogen's laugh rang through her. But now they were going faster, much faster and Constance bit her lip hard.

" Where are the brakes!" She yelled. Brooms didn't need brakes but most non-witch transportation included them.

Imogen looked back to see what was bothering the older woman, about to tell her that she wasn't helping, when the skis hit an unexpected bump and the blonde stumbled, losing one of the skis, wobbling as a clutching Constance didn't simplify matters.

Before she knew it, she had met the cold snow, and burst out laughing as she rolled a little further, landing on her back. Her hair was now soaked in the snow but she couldn't stop laughing as the potion teacher rolled beside her.

Constance loved and hated the experience, shivering softly before gathering her senses and gently pinned the woman down into the snow.

" its safe, you say... We won't fall, you say," Imogen stopped laughing nervously, in a vain attempt to free her wrist from her colleagues steel grip.

"Let me up Constance!" She whined as she struggled, but the witches firm clutch tightened.

" No, I don't think I will," she drawled teasingly, inspecting the blushing blonde beneath her, ever so gently nuzzling her neck, resting the softest kiss on her pulse, nibbling the tender skin sweetly. Imogen emitted a low moan, biting her lip slightly.

" It... Its not my fault, you -" she stuttered, her warm breath catching sharply in her throat as the deputy head nipped the tanned skin over her pulse passionately, cutting her mid sentence. The Gym mistress tilted her head slightly to allow the older woman greater access, although she was sure the small nibbles, sucks and nuzzles of affection were bound to leave a visible mark. It was a good thing it was the holiday, otherwise she'd have a lot of explaining to do to Miss Cackle, as all of her attire assortments had a neckline that came in line with her collarbone or below.

" oh Don't you dare blame me!" She smirked and caught her lips intensely beneath her own. Imogen so greatly wished to take the woman hair from the plait, run her fingers effortlessly through the silky locks, alas whenever wrists were stuck in her grip, she had been restricted of all use, which infuriated her greatly. The woman knew how to tease. Constance changed drastically around her making her other playful and teasing, traits she would never have originally expected from her. Still miss drill kissed her fondly almost growing numb. Constance lost her will power to Imogen, defeated by the fresh emerald eyes. She was so caught up in kissing the teacher that he didn't noticed the broomstick in the sky.

" Constance? Imogen? "

Both women stiffened, unable to move away as the unmistakable, dazed voice of Davina Bat rang out in the clearing.


	11. eavesdropping

Imogen Drill sat stiffly in her usual chair in the staffroom, a bitter taste in her mouth as she fiddled nimbly with her fingers, staring blankly out the window, the snow still reflecting the sun brightly. Constance Hardbroom sat on the other side of the table, motionless and stationary, her back straight as a ruler. Her index and pinky fingers met on both hands, feeling sick from the anxious silence. The only thing that made the witch feel any better, would be the fact it was Davina, not Amelia that saw two staff members, kissing heatedly in the unnatural snow on the hill. Miss Bat sat at the head if the table, as if she was Miss Cackle and was grinning brightly, like any other normal day. But now she was staring from Imogen to Constance, back to Imogen, back to Constance and so on, waiting for someone to speak.

" Wh-what are you doing back here so early?" The non-witch stuttered, slinking back into her chair, wishing it would swallow her up in its cushions.

" I left my marigold, juniper meditation tea, its vital!" The old witch perked up, with an odd smile "well," Miss Drill opted to stay silent, closing her eyes. Not being able to see anything almost made it like she wasn't there. And oh what Imogen would give to make it that she wasn't there. But Miss Bats impatient humming made her wishes evaporate in a puff of smoke. She couldn't speak, instead desperately seeking reassurance from the brunette, who met her gaze embarrassingly.

" I..." Constance started, before biting her lip and opting to vanish on the spot, leaving Imogen alone with the bat.

_'Thanks a lot' _she thoughts miserably resuming her hopes of vanishing as well... Of course, she never could.

"Imogen, please tell me..." The woman pleaded and the blonde forced herself to sit up in her chair, stirring her cold tea with no intention of lifting the cup to her lips.

" I guess it started with me, two girls and a broomstick."

Constance sat awkwardly on her bed, she had known it was wrong of her to leave her... Her... Her Imogen there to deal with Davina alone, but there was no way Miss Hardbroom could deal with such embarrassment. She leafed through a book that she absorbed as well as a golf ball absorbed the morning dew. Instead she resorted to pinning her hair up in her normal bun, upon realisation the chanting teacher had never seen it in that particular style. Her precise, delicate fingers nimbly sorted her hair, realising how much a simple action could transfer her appearance. To be truthful, she liked her hair down, whether that being in a plait, a ponytail or just down in general, but after her experience at school, she didn't know any different but then it was 'proper'. The witch sat alone for what felt like hours, but estimated was roughly seven minutes and bored, she vanished again, reappearing outside of the staffroom. She had been planning to burst in and scare Davina as usual, it would certainly bring a smile to her lips, possibly even the gym teachers... Yet she never managed to accomplish that, as she was cut short, hearing the words that left Imogen's lips. Lightly and silently, she leaned against the door and the voices magnified. The deputy head felt rather uneasy eavesdropping on her own colleagues. She gasped.

"It was obvious that we never got along, I mean I loved her at first, but now... She's never there for me you know? she doesn't think about anyone but herself, she's heartless..." There was a pause, as Imogen gathered the courage to voice her afterthoughts " She doesn't know how to love," She signed quietly, exhaling steadily sounding heartbroken.

" I see," Davina muttered " So will you ever love her again?"

Constance didn't want to stay to hear the reply, still, as she vanished she had the time to catch the soft 'no' be whispered from her once lovers lips. Tears spilt down her chalk pale cheeks, staining the soft porcelain skin as her eyes swam with hurt and sorrow. The tears came streaming and there was no stopping them. How foolish could she possibly be? She was being played by the non-witch all this time, and now she was crying like a silly young child.

_" You pathetic, little girl!" The headmistress loomed over her as she tried her best to control her tears. "Weeping little girls... They're disgusting. Dry those eyes!" She barked cruelly as Constance sniffed helplessly wiping her eyes on her sleeve. " You've been lacking recently Constance, am I not right to punish you accordingly? " _

_"Y-yes mistress Broomhead" fresh tears leaked from her dark crestfallen eyes, earning a hard slap across her face, making the young witch whimper and force back the tears._

_" Then deal with them! You're used to them by now aren't you, you worthless little creature" constance only nodded, her eyes were burning as more tears gathered, but she refused to let a single one drop. " crying is for the weak"_

Constance Hardbroom certainly felt weak as she half sat half collapsed on her bed, the one time in her life when she let someone into her heart into her life, and she was simply just a game to be played. The with felt ill and clutched her bed sheets to her chest desperately before crying into them. She zapped the snow from where she sat, and on the other side of the window, she saw the large blanket of pure snow ascend like vapour into the sky, dazzling crystals flying upwards, leaving fresh emerald grass free from its captor. Everything was much more vibrant and livelier, except Constance, who felt like she had evaporated with the cold winter.

It wasn't much later when there was a soft, tentative knock on her door. Composing herself, the potion mistress wiped her eyes, but was silent as a stone, denying the woman permission to enter her chambers. She could hear an exasperated sigh and a slight thump, indicating the non-witch just relented and leant against the door.

" Constance... I know you're embarrassed, I am to, believe me. But Miss Bat is okay with everything... I even told her that you have permission to lock her in her cupboard for eternity if she accidentally tells... This... This doesn't change anything right?" Imogen Drill sighed again waiting in the silence, beginning to feel ridiculous that she may, in fact be conversing with an empty room.

The nerve! To spill out heartbreaking truths to the mad chanting teacher, but to keep playing the terrible game, pretending to love her.

" Constance?" The handle twist, and the witch snapped

" Get out" she whispered feverly as boiling tears of rage fought forward, pricking her murky chocolate eyes. " Get out!" She cried, slamming the door shut roughly again with magic.

Imogen was horrified as she stood there, a hair widths away from getting hit by the door. Her eyes were wide, feeling rather caught, like a deer in the headlights. There was no reason at all for the deputy headmistress to be acting this way, she wasn't this bad upon finding that Fenella and Griselda knew.

" Constance! I only told her that, because I wasn't going on my trip, I stayed here, with you, and we were only, messing around. " Imogen pushed, desperate for the witch not to condemn or isolate herself.

The brunette huffed as she caught the tears on her fingers. Messing _her_ around maybe, playing her like a game, and Constance Hardbroom would not stand to be somebody's toy. " Davina is okay, it's a secret" Imogen murmured, giving up. " why are you acting so childish!?" She added harshly, crossing her arms as she turned away.

How could HB do that to her? Give her such a wonderful time, but at the slightest problem, she blatantly pretends the blonde doesn't exist! It wasn't as if _she _had left the staff room, leaving _Constance _alone with the chanting teacher, it was all so ... Unfair! What possible reason did she have to hold a vendetta against her? Its not as if she burned down cackles Academy. If Amelia was here, she wouldn't accept her deputy sulking for absolutely no reason whatsoever, lest slam the door in her face. She probably blamed her for getting them caught despite the fact it was _her _who left her helpless in the snow as she kissed her. Unconsciously, her smooth fingertips brushed the mark on her neck and her breath hitched quietly. Damn her! Changing her mind every twenty-four hours.

" Imogen, have you by any chance seen my herbal meditation tea?" miss Bat called tentatively, sticking her head round the door of her room as the non-witch ambled down the hall. He cleared her throat.

" No, I can't say I have. Is it lost?" The blonde held back warming tears, biting the inside if her cheek.

" I believe so, Can you help me look for it?"

" Have you tried your classroom?" The younger woman shrugged softly. The witch gasped with a grin.

"Ah, good idea!" Two teachers made their way down the stairs. Imogen only tagging along to try occupy her mind of something, anything, besides a certain tall witch.

Constance Hardbroom was heartbroken. Laying on her side, hugging her pillow, crying softly, heartbroken. So this was what come of falling in... No they were never in... She couldn't even think the word! How could she have been so, so stupid! After all this time she thought heartbreak was just for silly non-witches and their tendency to simply fall in ... With any random person who happened to be passing, like in the classic novels she had once read, to successfully prove a hypothesis.

With a broken heart the girl felt helpless, useless, why her? Why after everything was it her? Never in her whole life could she Imagine Imogen Drill playing with her, if anything it ought to be the other way around. She had loved her like she was, gave her everything she could, tried her hardest, even Amelia had noticed the two were behaving rather civil, a great improvement. But Imogen chose to break her spirits down, then come loving up on her like she had been all this time, still playing the humourless game. She would only give a little and take it all back, ripping Constance of her feelings, leaving her with nothing... How could she? Truthfully, the witch thought the blonde did love her. '_Well this is what you deserve... For trying too hard' _ she thought to herself emptily as she drained herself of tears until there was nothing left to cry. This was her fault, how could she allow herself to fall so blindly, and inside she knew Imogen was right. She _didn't _know how to love. She'd been searching, wondering, thinking, lost and looking all her life, and now she wished she had let the girl limp away from the staff room. Now, she was wounded and jaded, and it was all thanks to her carelessness. The witch berated herself mentally, she had as much blame in this as the gym mistress. No, she couldn't love, and she wouldn't, not after she'd been so hurt like this. Even after the nights they spent together, the dance... The snowballs, Constance had laughed like she hadn't laughed since... She didn't know when! And then she'd love everything in the world, even herself, which made a drastic change for the woman, and it was thanks to imogen... And now... The brunette stood up sharply, causing her head to spin as a migraine formed at her temple, opting to sit back down. Oh how she wished she had begged Miss Cackle even further to not let the non-witch teach at the Academy, even if she had to drive her out herself, pushed and pushed until she broke and resigned. Anything would've been better than have her stay and leave the powerful witch like this... And now she had to live without her.

A deep desolate numbness settled in the pit of her stomach as a hand of despair pulled at her gut. Her breath came in short, painful, staggering breaths as she clutched the pillow to her chest, sitting upright, feeling nauseous. She had the most horrid feeling in her stomach, like all the butterflies had just died.

Imogen stood awkwardly in the courtyard alongside Davina, who was preparing to set off for the second time that weekend, and the blonde made sure the old witch had everything. It was odd to see the cobblestone floor, which had been covered over with snow not even half an hour ago. The blossom had recovered, springing back, overcoming their temporary freeze.

" Don't forget, she has a temper that can come as quick as lightning" Davin warned, as she pat the blondes arm in friendly sympathy.

" Miss Bat, I'm spending the holiday at Cackles with Miss Hardbroom, not parading around a town handcuffed to the woman holding dynamite " she explained with a grin.

" Oh, I don't know which sounds worse!" The chanting teacher giggled mounting her broom.

" Davina!"

" okay, okay I'm off!"

" safe flight" she smiled quickly embracing her colleague " Goodbye"

" good _luck. ... _Hover_" _the mad woman tapped her broom.

Davina somewhat admired the two teachers, it was better than their usual bickering, and Constance did need some sort of assistance. Imogen was a lovely girl who brought her fruits salad, and Constance was... Well... The point was, Imogen _did _love her, greatly at that. Yes, the witch was moody and arrogant at times but still... Davina Bat smirked knowingly and ran her fingers across her lips in a zipping motion.

" I'll see you next term!" The strong powerful called as a merry bat waved and flew off, leaving the blonde to bask in the bathing glows. With that, Miss Drill turned on her heels and examined Cackles Academy. Somewhere in there was a sulking Constance, and she knew better than to strike up a reasonable conversation unless she did indeed have a death wish.

The deputy headmistress watched the witch leave, from her window, as silvery tracks cascaded down her cheeks as evidence of previous crying. Not able to move, her eyes focused on the non-witch that stole and broke her heart. The golden hair blew frantically in the breeze, despite her flustered attempts to swipe the locks out of her face. Her tanned complexion seemed to glow in the miraculous sunlight, bathing her in such elegant rays of light. The captivating eyes swept over the castle. Beautiful Emerald. Emeralds that shone with fake innocence... Then she turned again and went on one of her famous midday jogs.

" I really did think I loved you," she croaked softly, her throat sore from all her sobs.

" How touching," the voice sneered and Constance Hardbroom stiffened, unmoving as if she were a gargoyle. That thin, ice cold, unmistakable voice that haunted her dreams.

Hecketty Broomhead.

_**A/N I hope this wasn't too confusing, but next Chapter we WILL find out Hecketty's business at Cackles and we MAY find out just what Imogen meant when Constance Overheard her.**_


	12. The Gift

_**A\N sorry for the wait, its been a hard chapter to write. I'm sorry about the confusion between Imogen and Constance but everything will be revealed in the next cchapter xxxx I will love you forever if you review xxxx ( Hermione Jean McGonagall, thank you for the reviews, they are actually keeping me writing this, so thank you xx)**_

_The worst thing_ _about her room, was that it was on the very top floor. Of course, she had first thought it was to purposefully make her late to class, giving old Hecketty Broomhead a perfectly good excuse to put her on detention. But now, she had decided that she was all the way up there to make it near impossible to escape. Constance had tried to run away more than once, first through the dungeons, then through the witches and then even right through the main doors, and each time she had been caught with more severe consequences than the last. She hasn't pursued the common goal of escaping for six months now, and it was high time she tried again. With her few possessions tucked up in a satchel alongside spare clothes,a bread roll she secretly took from dinner that day ( wrapped up in a napkin ) and Morgana ( her sleek black cat) purring fondly, nestled in her clothes, Constance sat on her windowsill gathering her courage. All she had to do was jump... Slide down to the gutter, climb down, fetch her broom from the shed and she was free... What could possibly go wrong? Well a number of things, and that included a very angry tutor bursting into her room before she could set off, and unfortunately, that was exactly what happened._

_The faintest noise alarmed the young girl, the unmistakable notice of someone either appearing or disappearing, and before she had time to turn and examine who could possibly be hindering her, two familiar iron-grip hands had caught her shoulders in a vice lock clutch, pulling her roughly back inside, Morgana yowling in surprise. How could Broomhead possibly have known? It was hours past lights out. It was almost as if she could see the future... Before her mind could catch up with her, she suddenly found herself being thrown to the floor, banging her arm sharply on the corner of the foot locker, sending a jolt of pain coursing through her arm._

_" Constance Hardbroom, you surprise me," the old witch murmured icily, yet she didn't appear very surprised, it almost looked as if she had expected it. " were the results of your previous failed attempts at running away not enough to make you learn your lesson?" The brunette cowered into the corner._

_" I wasn't running away, mistress Broomhead, I was merely sitting on the windowsill " her shallow tentative voice broke, as she held back a nervous whimper. _

_" with your cat and your clothes? Do you think I am stupid?" Hastily, she shook her head, as Morgana jumped out of her satchel, scampering under the bed, leaving her owner alone. _

_" N-no Mistress broomhead" it tore through her that she had been so close to escaping... So close, yet so far. A burning sensation overwhelmed her, as the iron like hand came into rough contact with the side of her face, and the young witch fell on all fours, a soft cry emitting from her pale lips. Suddenly her head flew back, as her long sleek, midnight hair was caught in the unyielding grip. "I-Im sorry M-miss... It'll n-never happen a-again" she managed through short, feverish gasps. Her heart beat frantically, as the long sharpened nails trailed an odd pattern down her neck with slow anticipation._

_" didn't you say that last Time Constance?" Salty tears brewed in the dark innocent eyes as pure specks of red contrasted on pale white where the nails dug a little too hard. Scratches. They were always the worst, and the fresh red lines streaked all the way to the back of her neck, stinging like nettles. _

_" P-please!" She begged strongly. The moonlight reflected in the tear tracks down her innocent face, making each new stream glow silver. _

_" Up!" She barked cruelly and a shaky Constance struggled to her feet, Hecketty pulling her up the rest of the way by her elbow. _

_In a flash, the surroundings changed, and the young girl stood, shaking like a leaf in the witches office. She was bound to have bruises on her elbow tomorrow morning from the woman's steel grip that left her lower lip trembling as she tried not to whine. She was being steered toward the locker._

_" Miss, Please!" _

_" Silence!"_

_The locker was just a cupboard built into the wall, just big enough for around five brooms, or perhaps three boxes of students files. But this one was empty, it was saved for the students themselves, not their files. There were no windows or holes, so the place was cast in eternal darkness. Not to mention in was so cold. Mistress Broomhead always kept the window of her office ajar to let in a draft. Rumor had it that she would send messages by birds to other evil witches, but no evidence had ever proved such a theory. However the fill from the window crept through the millimetre space between the door and the floor, freezing the cupboard as well. And finally, there were no meals and Heckety could keep a pupil in there for as long as she could see fit._

_Constance hit the opposite wall before she hit the ground, and before she could even sob, the lock twisted, and she knew there was no use in pleading, so she sobbed into her knees quietly. The four walls seemed to close in on her, making her realise how abandoned she actually was..._

_"You're a disappointment, Constance... Your mother would be ashamed." The voice drawled and the girl hung her head. Her mother had died only three years ago, and she had sworn to her mother she'd try her best to do her proud... "Remember Constance, when someone breaks the rules..."_

_" Someone gets hurt" the brunette whispered. The statement had been drilled into her mind, as she curled up, hugging her knees, and wondered how long she'd be in there for._

Constance couldn't think.

Constance couldn't move.

Constance couldn't do anything but sit stiffly, her dry, trembling lips open slightly in shock, her eyes swimming wildly with fear. She could feel her pulse beating in her ears, blocking out all other sound except the breath that was raggedly moving in and out of her mouth at regular, gasping intervals. A feeling of dread crept up from the pit of her stomach, a cold wave embalmed the potion mistress as the hairs rose on the back of her neck and her mouth ran dry. Miss Hardbroom was paralysed to the spot, the menacing aura holding her in a tightening grip. She couldn't believe her eyes. She didn't want to anyway! Her heart was beating frantically like the wings of a hummingbird. Never in her whole life could she have anticipated she would ever again, be in the presence of the woman who stalked her dreams like a cat in the shadows. She felt helpless, like she was caught again in her fifteen year old self, powerless and alone and the worse thing was... She really _was _alone. Davina had flown off, the only other witch on the premises and her timing was just put! _'Very convenient_,' Miss Hardbroom thought, when she could finally think again, panicking stressfully. And That left Imogen, who, one, had decided would take her run two minutes ago, and two, was a simple non-witch, so had she currently been there, Constance was afraid her old form tutor would just 'dismiss' her with ease. Besides, Imogen obviously didn't even care like she let on, after all, in her own words she had said " mean I loved her at first, but now... " she had never thought Imogen would feel that way with anyone, much less her!

The thought made the younger witch shudder, the chill sweeping gracefully through her bones, brought her back to her senses.

Hecketty Broomhead hadn't changed.

Well, she had gained a few more lines that etched deeply into her face, as if someone had personally engraved them with a stylus. A sign of old age, and not laugh lines, for the potion mistress could've sworn the old woman hadn't laughed a single day in her life...

No that was false, she laughed once or twice when superior to a young dark haired witch that she took so much pleasure in hurting... But that was it. No traces of joy ever penetrated those, ice cold shallow eyes. Her eyes alone could strike fear into a lion's heart. The light beige glassy eyes were the sort you could find on a scorpion, raising its tail preparing to sting... Also like a crocodile, eyeing up the prey as it barely broke the surface of the water, waiting... Watching. Her thin, pale lips were cracked like a seriously sun dried riverbank, pursed tightly as she grinned cruelly.

" M-mistress Broomhead" it was impossibly difficult to maintain a steady voice as Constance sat, shocked that even the tips of her fingers drained of feeling, leaving her with a vague numbness. After all these years why now was her personal demon back?

Imogen hadn't the slightest idea why the witch had been behaving so abrupt and over reacting? What had she possibly done wrong now? Why had Constance slammed the door on her... Shouted at her? How different everything would be if she was a witch. Constance would regard her as an equal... She could've made Davina forget what she saw... She could have... Why she could've healed herself that night, no! Had she been a witch she wouldn't have even been flying that night any way! And upon figuring so, for the first time in her life she was glad she was not a witch.

Still, she _had _called her childish, maybe she ought to go back?'_No you just WANT to go back," _the voice in her head chided, sneakily.

" to make sure she knows I'm sorry," it took her a few seconds to realise she had spoken aloud, before she cursed herself mentally, looping around and jogging back to Barron Overblows castle.

Imogen didn't know why she was running so fast, it was only Constance, had it been Davina alone in the castle she'd be sprinting like this. Had it been Davina, Miss Drill wouldn't feel safe leaving the room if Miss Bat was alone inside.

' _Just say you're sorry, say you were wrong, she likes you being wrong doesn't she?' _That voice at the back of her mind came forward again as she ran. In truth she never wanted to leave her Constance, not even for a jog.

" Wh-what are you doing _here?_" The potion mistress squeaked, in a vain effort to speak, still purely horrified of whose presence she was in.

" You're my Trinket, Constance, your tutor. -"

"My _EX_ tutor," she reminded hastily

" Don't interrupt! Have you forgotten what I spent years drilling into you?" Miss Hardbroom bit her lower lip in an attempt not to laugh at the lexical choice, before the unwelcome chuckle turned into a half hearted sob, at the fact her ex-lover was somewhere deep in the forest by now. " each of those times you tried escaping back at school..." She drawled viciously, reminding the woman of all the times she longed to forget. " and I was right there waiting for you..." The times flashed before her eyes, each time the ice that ran down her spine upon figuring Broomhead was always a step ahead of her. " I have a _very _close friend, Miss Kane, and she is a witch, who, quite rarely, has a gift, a gift of foretelling the future," Constance was too busy adding two and two together to congratulate any Miss Kane. That explained entirely why mistress Broomhead showed up only seconds before she escaped... But she had moved on, why was she here now? And if her colleague had seen the future, did that mean she knew about the blonde gym teacher? It was possible, probable even, but Constance didn't want to dwell in it, she was already getting a migraine.

" yes... But why are you _here now_?" the brunette managed a full sentence without stuttering, an achievement that brought her confidence.

" Oh, I simply came to give you a gift." 'Hecketty and gifts', where heard in the same sentence as often as 'mice and mountains' it was likely that old Broomhead hadn't given a gift in her whole life, and the fact she was giving one to the potions mistress, put the younger witch on edge.

She held out an open palm before a small glass jar, with a punctured lid appeared suddenly. Upon closer inspection she could identify a brightly coloured green frog, hopping, crouching terrified in the drying leaves. The old witch tipped the contents onto the floor.

"Reversus Revolvus, Returnus Resolvus, Illio, Allio, Transfutato Temporus," constance murmured as soon as the animal was out of his prison, so it wouldn't hop away.

Maybe it was someone she knew? '_Oh Bats! What if it's Miss Cackle?' _She thought. _'Or imogen, Does she know?" _But those fears were soothed as the figure grew taller than both of them , and was just about the same night as Constance herself. There was now a young man standing in front of her. She was sure she had seen him before, his face was so familiar. He had thick, fair mid length hair black as Morgana. His face was rather pale in contrast. He wore odd slacks, as if somebody had closed their eyes and picked two items from a cupboard. A beige robe that matched nothing but his eyes. She gasped.

The eyes. They were like sparkling emerald, deep and caring, but such a brilliant green, she knew the face, because it was like Imogens... This must mean _this _was Imogen Drill's long lost brother. This mean her parents were innocent. This, was Marcus Drill.


	13. Sandwiches make it all okay

**_A/N and all is revealed in chapter thirteen, sorry for the cliffhanger Dearie's, it I promise I'll work on the next chapter in the mmorning, I was writing this late at night, so please forgive any mistakes. Please note all of these characters belong to Jill Murphy except Janice, Michael and Marcus, these guys are mine xxxx enjoy!_**

_Thirteen year old Imogen sat on the worn rug in the centre of the room, directly in from of the fireplace, her brothers picture standing beside it. All the fun had been sucked out of her life since that day on the 20th of November when he went missing. Very often Janice came in to try talk to her, reassure her, hug her, but Imogen slipped from her grip and partially ignored her 'mother'. _

_" Why did you do it?" She whispered tentatively one night, to her mother who was sat in the living room. Imogen couldn't sleep the question haunting her terribly, she had been sure it was her mother's fault her brother went missing. _

_" How many times must we go through this Imogen? We know you despise us, but we know as much about Marcus' disappearance as you do," Michael tried to keep his voice steady this was the 12th time his daughter had accused him and his wife of kidnapping his own son._

_" That you took him?" She answered quickly._

_"Listen here Imogen! This has got to stop! This has all got to stop!" Janice snapped from her seat on the sofa. And despite her young daughter nodded, Imogen promised herself that she would never forget this. Her parents were responsible and that could mean 'she' was next... She'd have to run away!_

Anyone who knew Imogen could tell that this man was of some relation to her, and however much Constance hated men and boys alike in the school ( she put up with Mr Blossom), she was almost relieved that Marcus Drill was here now. But then her brain kicked in. What was Hecketty doing with Marcus? Why was she being so nice? She was never nice... '_Oh Bats_! _She took Marcus!" _

" You don't talk much, Cat at your tongue?" Mistress Broomhead sneered, and Constance didn't know if she was talking to her, or to him. It was all of a sudden when the man shrunk and turned green, Hecketty caught the frog around the middle and dropped him into the jar, capping the lid as it desperately tried to jump up the glass walls.

" I will return with Marcus in Two days, you can have him then, there will be Conditions... But I came simply to let you know your sweet Imogen's Brother is alive, and everything will be clear in two days," the old witch laughed cruelly, indicating that her visit, although practically was pointless, had great troubles following, great troubles that would come in two days. Hecketty Broomhead and the frog in the jar vanished, leaving the younger witch stunned, her glassy eyes rounded with fear, as she sunk further into her chair. Not many seconds has passed before a knock on the door made the potion mistress jump, a concerned Imogen following the sound. Her emerald eyes found the witches, and she gasped, and was by her side in an instant.

" Constance! You're shaking! You look terrified whatever's the matter?" Miss Drills clear voice broke through her as she shook out of her daze. Had she been two minutes earlier, she'd have seen her brother. Her brother! What was she supposed to say? 'I saw Marcus but I wasn't powerful enough to keep him here for you?" No, she'd see him into two days right? Whatever that meant.

"I- I'm fine," she muttered composing herself again. The non-witch took her hand and entwined their fingers as she enveloped the deputy headmistress in a warm, reassuring hug.

" I'm sorry about Miss Bat, but it's okay, I still think I love you," Imogen grinned softly as she crouched on the floor beside her, gripping her stone cold fingers comfortingly

" I...I need to sort out my head," she withdrew her hand upon remembering the words exchanged between her and Miss Bat. " Please, leave me alone," it was a barely a whisper, and the witch stated out of the window sadly than at Imogen.

" Constance I-"

" Please," she said again. She might end up loving her more, and then she'd be hurt, hurt by a non-witch. That non-witch was hurt, the pain reflected in her eyes as Constance dismissed her. It was. Obvious the woman was not in her right mind, she rarely acted like this, she wanted the old constance Hardbroom back! The one that danced with her, the one that the snowballs at her, the one that slipped on the ice with her. Still, the gym teacher left.

She left. And Constance was left alone to sort out her thoughts.

Constance had been acting very odd recently, and Imogen didn't have the slightest clue why, but she thought very carefully as she made her way down to the kitchen. She had began to get a little hungry, after all she had skipped breakfast. The dungeons... The kitchens, two important events had happened down here. She was hurt by Miss Hardbroom on day number one, then she was kissed by miss Hardbroom on day... She hadn't been counting. She had spent enough days in the staffroom to know what her superior would eat in a sandwich, and after cutting off the crust, having watched constance cut the edge or the bread many lunch times, she knew she never like it. A sandwich, as a peace offering, it would surely do! And after another fifteen minute walk through the school, she ended up at Hardbrooms room, again, carrying two plates. Lightly, the non-witch kicked the door, her hands occupied and the door swung open by magic. Imogen smiled.

Constance bit back a grin, a crustless sandwich, how closely had the girl been concentrating on how she like her food? '_Wait stop being friendly, she's playing with you!' _The voice in her head screamed as she thanked Imogen.

" Are you okay Constance, please there's been something wrong with you ever since Miss Bat showed up.

" This has got to stop!" The blonde tensed, Janice had so often used the same words and the same tone. " I can't go on like this Okay?" Was it her imagination or was the elder woman holding back tears?

"I'm sorry, what?" Confused, miss Drill put her side her sandwich, to listen.

" Oh here you go again with this charade!" The brunette snapped, her own plate now on the floor, as she turned to face the gym teacher.

" Constance Hardbroom, what are you talking about!?" She inquired with a genuine confusion, having no idea what was going on.

" I overheard you and Davina okay! I heard everything! '_She doesn't know how to love, she's Heartless,' _and if you don't love me... Please stop acting like it!" It was final, the tears dropped.

Imogen had her head in her hands, and the weirdest thing happened... she laughed.

" Oh, Constance!" The non-witch stood by the chair and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. " Is _this _what it's all been about?" It was Constance's turn to be confused as she wiped the rogue tear away. " I had been talking about Janice! Not you! I would never say those things about you! I was explaining to Miss Bat why I didn't want to go on my ski trip! Oh you silly witch!"she muttered with a smile, as she pulled the woman out the chair so she could wrap her arms around her, pressing a quick reassuring kiss to her lips.

Constance blinked. How could she have jumped to conclusions like that! A huge weight lifted from her shoulders as she ran her fingers through the short golden hair.

" I'm so sorry, " she whispered gently, the dark eyes seemed enlightened and bright.

" Its okay, mistakes happen, now... Eat your sandwich. " both women grinned as they ate in a much more cheerful atmosphere.

" so, I guess we can blame old Janice for that as well," the emerald eyed beauty grinned as she sat cross legged at the edge of Constance's bed, finishing off her sandwich. A guilt sank in the witch, hearing her colleague accuse her parents who were not guilty.

" Maybe they're not as bad as you think they are... Maybe they're just... Normal people," Imogen looked up at Miss Hardbroom to see if she was joking, and there were no sign to say she was.

" You don't know them... They kidnapped my brother, and heaven knows what they did to him!"

" Imogen, I-"

" Constance Please! I'm asking you, never to make my parents out to be innocent, my whole life I've been weary of them, I don't want to be wrong all this time," the sharp tone shocked the witch, but she knew, when talking about the past, she wasn't all sweet and understanding either.

" Imogen, it's okay, calm down, I ... I never meant to upset you," Miss Hardbroom sighed softly, sitting beside the young teacher on the bed. She herself despised to be wrong and only imagined what it would be like to have her life long belief proved wrong, and she could understand the blondes rash reaction. Still miss Drill felt like she was on fire, she knew she shouldn't have snapped, it made her feel guilty, and softly she leant against the witch who enclosed her in her arms, wrapped in fine black. The potion mistress gently pulled the non-witch closer to into her, planting a lingering kiss to the back of her neck, sending pleasant chills skid down her spine. The gym teacher allowed herself to be comforted as she rest against the woman, fears eased from her mind as if someone were squeezing water from a sponge.

" I'm sorry," the blonde whispered as she clutched to Constance's arms to assure herself she was there. The affection was heart woman as the deputy softly rest her head next to Imogen's, supported by the woman's shoulder

"What for?" The warm whisper in her ear made the girl smile, tilting her head she managed to peck her cheek lovingly.

" That all that had to happen, can we just continue like we used to? The fun times not the whole bickering, Miss Drill times?"

" I assure you, things will go back to normal... Miss Drill,"

"Hey!" She nudged her colleague playfully although she was wrapped up in her arms, it had little effect. The witch chucked as she held Imogen close to her, and comforted, and exhausted, the non-witch napped in the elder woman's embrace, even if it was mid-day.

The clock that hung on the opposite wall from Constance's bed ticked and tocked alternate second and although the dark eyes were glued to the hands, the seconds seemed to be going slower. 8:15. am She had been sitting in that position for hours! It was obvious Miss Drill had skipped her run that morning, well she couldn't blame her, they had been up till dawn again, simply talking. The night before they had stayed up because Imogen had fell asleep during the day... Had that been a whole two days ago? Constance Hardbroom didn't get much sleep at all, she had been worrying over old Hecketty's gift? Why was she giving it today? Not two days ago? Why was she being so good?

Lordy, how did Imogen sleep so long! Another minute ticked past with the feeling of twenty minutes, and Constance ran out of patience, slipping from beneath her covers in the familiar purple Pyjamas, snatching her glass of water from her bedside table in the process.

The thing that Miss Drill regretted most... Was switching off her old phone, and therefore, switching off her precious alarm. She was so at rest, that she slept heavily through the warming sunrise, simply burying her face into her pillow. That was until she was woken to a cup of ice cold water in her face.

" Imogen, Wake up!" Constance commanded aggressively.

" Jeez! Was that necessary? " The blonde was now sat upright, awake and alarmed. Her fringe plastered to her temple, the front of her shirt soaked.

" No," the potion teacher admitted with a smirk, sitting on the edge of the bed, setting the now empty glass down on the table. " Good morning," the witch planted a soothing kiss on the girls damp forehead.

" Is that what you call it? This has been a very reviving morning I wouldn't go so far as to call it, _good_" the non-witch couldn't help but smile... Or was it more of a grimace? She couldn't tell, as she shivered from the cold water that clung to her clothes like ice.

" I'm making breakfast, get dressed," although it was an order, Miss Hardbroom managed to make it sound almost comforting and delicate, and she left the room with a bemused Imogen, sitting in her bed, grinning brightly. Only a room away, Constance wore the same smile, it was as if a merry, catchy tune was playing in the air, playing to the two women to remind them that their significant other wasn't far away, and that they were in love. The brunette tied up her hair tightly as the blonde pulled her top over her head, running her comb through the short, golden locks. Miss Hardbroom buckled up her high heeled, black boots as she sat on the stool of her dressing table. Miss Drill sitting on her bed as she tied the laces to her trainers. Despite the witch knew that Hecketty Broomhead would make an appearance, later, she was oddly happy as she stepped out of her room, completely in sync with the gym teacher, who reflected bright grins, a cheerfully, genuinely happy look in her perfect emerald eyes as without a question, they joined hands to make their way to the kitchen. They reached the end of the corridor when Constance got sick of walking and apparated the two down a few floors and with a miraculous grin, Imogen rest her soft lips against the witches burgundy painted lips. The deputy head had never shown such genuine happiness as a smile threatened to split her face.

" I think I love you," Constance stated simply as she snooped around the kitchen. She knew she could easily magic a breakfast, but if Imogen making her a sandwich was a sign of affection, she could easily put two pieces of bread together right?

" I think I love you too," the gym mistress agreed, as she poured water into a kettle, as if the sort of thing was ordinary. A black and blue mug appeared beside her. _Their _cups! Miss Hardbroom had summoned them from the staffroom, and Imogen was sure her smile was reaching her ears.

The witch lent gently across the corner of the table to rub the jam smudge from the tanned complexion of her colleague, who giggled softly, pushing her cheek softly against the pale digits.

" Excellent tea, Miss Drill," the woman smirked lightly, as she returned her hands to herself, sipping from her cup. The non-witch blushed subtly.

" Its how you always have it," a comfortable silence settled as the teachers drank their tea, before miss Hardbroom set down her cup.

" I forgot, I need to collect post, Miss Cackle said we were expecting new rotas from Offwitch." She had always thought it was stupid to have to mail box a good mile away from the school.

" Let me come!"

" It's only post," the witch chuckled, but she grinned still " but I will allow you to tag along if you desire," Imogen beamed, her brilliant eyes dazzling as she shot out of the chair, placing a precise kiss on the woman's dark lips, pulling a hair widths apart and whispering,

"Catch me,"

Constance was confused a moment before the excited girl took off up the stairs, the witch smiling brightly, vanishing and reappearing right in front of the blonde, who collided into her fully.

" Stop doing that!" Imogen laughed. " and I didn't mean like that, I meant like chasing, it's fun! My brother and I used to..." She trailed off, blinking sadly. The deputy tenderly kissed the back of her hand, bringing her out of her trance.

" sounds fun to me, Ten... Nine... Eight" it took Imogen a few seconds to realize that the witch was giving her a head start, and she slipped past her favourite person, and carried on running up the stairs, till finally she made it to the first floor, where sneakily she hid behind the open door. It was exactly 17 seconds later when Constance emerged, and stood, confused on the spot, realising the blonde could've gone left, to the charms classrooms, right to the stairs or forward to the hall. She chose upon the later, and no later had she done that, the persistent non-witch leaped on her back, laughing as she wrapped her arms Supportingly around her neck. " Imogen! You'll be giving _me_ palpitations!" Miss Hardbroom laughed as well supporting the light teacher on her back.

The blonde hugged her and kissed her neck soothingly.

"Pay back for the wake up call!" she mused, slipping from off her back. "let's go fetch some mail," she grinned, jogging ahead, and Constance smiled, delighted to see that Miss Drill was happy.

" Hold up! Wait!" She called after the figure slipped through the door, into the courtyard, the potion mistress yet again, chasing after her with a perfect grin. " Imogen!" The blonde girl smiled and spun on the spot to face Constance who was only six paces out if the door.

" yes?" Suddenly, Constance couldn't speak, she was paralysed, her eyes widened and her breath hitched. The non-witch turned back around cautiously, an old witch stood there, draped in black, an odd hat on her head, with a jar in her hand, and in the jar was a brightly coloured green frog, that was acting as if it desperately wanted to be out. The wind seemed to grow colder and icy, the vibrant colours of wrong seems to grow duland old, time seems to stop altogether.

It was all coming together now,how could she not have realised before? This wasn't a gift for her! It was a gift for Imogen... Imogen Drill would be faced with a choice, to choose her, Constance Hardbroom, her colleague with occasional mood swings, or her long lost brother whom she adored, who inspired her childhood, whom she had been devoted to... And if... When Imogen chose her brother, what would be left for constance... This wasn't a gift, this was a trade...


	14. Goodbye

_**A/N sorry this has taken a while its been a hard chapter and I have been having a rough time, things aren't going too well, but now the chapter is finally finished and I can work on chapter 15. Read and review. ( personal thanks to plebs/ Lisa for helping me sort it out, you're very inspirational and I owe you my gratitude otherwise this chapter may have been finished next month) **_

_Imogen swung her legs forward and back as she sat, rather bored, on the chair outside the headteachers office. It felt like she had been sat there for hours till her parents showed up. _

_" We had a call from your head teacher, ... You're in detention? " Imogen shook her head at her mother with a weak grin , pointing to the door beside her._

_" He's in there," her father rolled his eyes as he stroked his youngests hair a moment._

_"Come on then," he grinned and three parents and child went to see Marcus Drill._

_The head teachers office was rather large, the walls painted cream with pictures of former heads dating all the way back to 1914, hanging sadly of bent nails. The office was tidy yet old, like the teacher that sat behind the desk._

_" Marcus Drill had displayed some rare acts of violence earlier today, against a fellow pupil in his class... Thankfully, there was no real damage, the only casualty being the Andrew Frost had a rather serious nosebleed." the old woman started, flipping through papers on her desk. Janice opened her mouth to probably scorn her son or something, but the woman, that reminded Imogen of a fly with her big round glasses and frail figure, continued. "We have reason to believe that your son had reasons behind his actions, involving your daughter" Eyes turned towards the nine year old blonde who nervously fiddled with her plait. _

_"Frosty scares me," the girl complained quietly, shrugging softly._

_"Of course he does, he's like a buffalo compared to you. He was being completely unfair! He said, that because Imi was often alone, nobody liked her, he said she was unlikable, said even I didn't like her... That's when I hit him ..." Marcus admitted as he fidgeted in his seat and although he sounded quiet he caught his sister's eye and winked supportively, " Nobody hurts my sister," the young girl beamed and despite the headmistress' course for punishment, the family were still rather proud._

_The two children dawdled behind their parents on their way home, having a hopscotch race along the path._

_"Thanks for saving me from frosty," _

_" Well, what're big brothers for?" The cheeky grin formed on his lips._

_" stealing your ice cream!" Imogen laughed as she took the lead in the race. " Will Frosty stop being mean now?"_

_" I don't know Imi, but I'm not letting him hurt you, that's for sure, as long as I'm asking, I promise nobody's ever going to hurt you,"_

Their eyes locked. Dazzling Emerald. Mysterious hazelnut. The absolute fear was reflected in both women's eyes. Imogen stared blissfully, if the witch was this scared it was obvious that this strange woman was both terrifying and dangerous. Constance stared mournfully back at the girl, as if she was already picking the kind of flowers that would go best on her coffin. It reminded the potion teacher of the usual classics she had read, the whole good versus evil thing. Does that truly exist. Is it just black and white? Can good people do bad things? Were bad people once good? Why, she was simply confusing herself, Hecketty Broomhead was never good, and never would be. Then again, was _she_? Imogen was good, she was pure innocence, but her?

'_Stop thinking so much Constance,' _she told herself bitterly, yet her eyes began to cloud like glass in steam. After all these years, _she _had been Hecketty Broomheads target. Marcus... Her. Dearly beloved brother whom she adored, and had lost, and had dreamed of... Moody colleague who recently falsely accused her, who was no good at the whole love thing.

Imogen drill still didn't know what was going on. Confused as she was, she kept her place.

" Can I help you?" She called powerfully, to the old witch that stood roughly eight metres away...Constance, only eight metres behind her. '_Move, please,' _ she begged '_Come stand beside me, please move... Move!' _ But the witch stayed her ground, as if she was rooted by fear.

" I think not, I think it is I who can help you... Ah yes, its you ... I recognise the... eyes," the non-witch stood so her posture didn't slack, eyeing the strange woman, baffled by her answer.

" How do you plan to accomplish that, who are you?" It started to annoy her that miss Hardbroom hadn't moved or said a word, what was wrong with her?

" You mean, Constance hasn't told you?" The woman drawled, cradling the jar in her arms. "I'm Mistress Hecketty Broomhead, and of course you must be Imogen Drill,"

The non-witch shot the potion mistress a worried glance, over her shoulder, but Constance had barely moved, just staring in shock and fear. Until Imogen turned around, the fresh green eyes capturing her attention as usual, that shook her out of her daze. She blinked.

" We d-don't want you here," she stuttered, trying to will her feet to move.

" But I beg to differ dear! As I said two days ago, I bring a gift!" Mistress Broomheads vacant eyes gleamed, especially at the confusion on the blondes face.

" Two days ago? You weren't here two days ago!"

" oh but I think you'd find I was," indeed, that would explain why Miss Hardbroom was acting so odd... Yet...

" You didn't tell me..." Imogen muttered weakly. She could understand had all the children been there, that such matters should be confidential to prying eyes and ears, but _her? _

"Imogen, I-"

" enough prattle," the witch spat, unscrewing the lid on the jar. The frog had barely touched the floor before it started to transform. The figure grew taller, and got paler, dark eyes lightened, webbed hands became fingers. Till he stood there, Marcus.

Silence. She couldn't believe. It was ... Practically virtually impossible, but she could recognise that tangled ( slightly overgrown) mop of black hair anywhere, and the eyes. They both had their mother's eyes, luminescent emerald.

"I-imi?" His voice was hoarse from croaking all these years, as almost as if he had forgotten all together how to speak.

" It _is _you!" The girl cried suddenly, running towards the witch and her brother. The hug almost knocked the man backwards as his sister's arms flung around him, and he held her close and securely, out of everyone, he had missed her the most. He missed tying her shoelaces before school, he had missed burying her under the leaves in the fall, he missed cutting her sandwiches into quarters for her. And now he had missed her growing up, missed her graduation, missed her getting her first car... First date.

"I'm so sorry," Marcus whispered, ruffling up the blonde hair like he always used to do.

" Hey!" Miss Drill complained, even though a bright smile split her face, shoving her brother playfully.

Despite the circumstances, Constance Hardbroom found herself grinning, the sight of her Imogen, being so happy... Even if it _was _thanks to Broomhead. Finally, her feet decided to move, as she started to make her way towards them, cautiously, as her old form tutors eyes scorned her.

They were laughing , as tears strolled down their cheeks, clinging to each other tightly in a warm embrace.

" Who's this?" the boy asked with a smile, noting the brunette comprehensively making her way towards them.

" Oh, Constance, she's my-"

"Your payment," the witch cut in.

" my _what?!_"

" well it's tic for tac, is it not? I believe its called fair trade,"

" Yes! But this isn't the sixteenth century nor the bloody slave trade either! No you can't have her!" The ferocity of the gym mistress's words shocked even her brother, who had only ever dealt with the minor temper tantrums.

" Calm down, Miss Drill" the blondes heart stopped, hearing the voice that soothed her spirit... Miss drill, she had called her miss Drill again... It wasn't fair.

"N-no Constance, I-I'm not prepared to give one of you up so easily, I... I need to think. No, no I can't!" She escaped her brothers arms to pace stressfully, stopping in front of the old witch. " I don't know who you think you are, but you can't make me choose!

"I think you'll find I can," the low key set the girl on edge, hating the voice completely. She held the empty jar in her hand upright, as it slimmed at the middle, as a sandglass sat in her open palm, the time had already started running. "Five minutes,"

" I love them! Both of them!" She protested having half a mind to hit the woman.

The temperature must've dropped about ten degrees, and Imogen wrapped her arms around herself, tears clouding her vision, who could make a choice like that.

Constance was glad she pinned her hair up again, mistress Broomhead would've given her hell otherwise. The woman felt empty, drained of emotion, she knew it wouldn't hurt as much now, if she chose her brother... It helped if she didn't care... But she _did _care, much more than she let on.

" Four minutes,"

The voice echoed in her mind, but then she felt a warm hand on her arm. Imogen. The young woman had tears swimming in the capturing emerald eyes.

"C-constance..."

" Don't, " the witch cupped the blondes cheeks with both hands, sweeping her fingers across the soft sun-kissed skin, placing a young small kiss to her lips. "I'm going back... With mistress Broomhead, you don't need to make the choice," she whispered, ignoring the non-witches eyes as they became alert and fearful.

" N-no, C-con- ... I-"

" I can't make you choose between me..." A dragging moment passed as imogen stared helplessly, not able to believe she was in this very situation... Perhaps somewhere, in some alternate universe, on some ordinary day, imogen would be in the staffroom right now, catching onto the ends of the potion teachers sarcastic comments as she leafed through a sports magazine, sinking her teeth into an apple as Constance stood behind her with a cup of tea, waiting to be acknowledged, or for a reply to continue their simple amusing banter. But as it was this was no ordinary day, nor was this any parallel universe... She was there, with the agonising decision. " between me and your family," she finished with a heartbroken sigh.

The blondes arms wrapped around her thin waist as she rest her head to her chest in a long warm embrace. " But you _are _my family! I think love you," the words shocked the elder woman, it now seemed tradition to say they 'thought' even though they both knew fully, it would seem a shame to break the tradition... But Miss Drill had called her, her family... That meant a lot to the girl who was raised with only a mother who died an untimely death.

" Your brother! You've lost him once already!"

" And I don't want the same to have to happen to you! There is no way I could ever live without you!" The gym mistress protested as eyes locked, hands entwined.

" Imogen listen to me, I can't see you hurt yourself by making this decision, I have got to go, she always gets what she wants, she's been planning this for twenty years since she took Marcus!" The witch pointed out solemnly.

"No! you don't have to! You don't have to leave me! " the girls eyes welled fully with glassy tears, her lips forming a tight frown, trying to control the ever present tremble that shook through her body.  
"I don't have a choice!" She effortlessly brushed away Imogen's tears she wished she wasn't so strong all the time, she felt like crying her heart out at the moment, screaming from the depths of her lungs, running away, far away with Imogen! Now she wished she had went on that trip to Greece with Miss Bat.  
"Constance... please," she shot a helpless look to her brother who could only stare back solemnly. " Stay! Please... If you want me to get down on my knees miss Hardbroom I will do!" Constance almost couldn't believe the girl was begging, she had half a mind to brush away the tears, kiss her lips and hold her tight, promising she wouldn't go anywhere, that they'd be together , but she couldn't... She wanted to... She needed too, but Marcus...

" You deserve more imogen, more than me, you deserve someone who will always be there, you need someone who isn't afraid to show the world your relationship,"

" I... I know... He's my brother! You're my... My girlfriend, " a new word... to both of them...

" Two minutes" the witch chirped in. A smug smirk graced her features as if she was enjoying each moment.

" Imogen. Please listen to me, I need to say it now... I love you, I used to think it but now I know it, You came to Cackles and I hurt you, and I am so sorry, but when you came to Cackles, you proved to the whole school how certain non-witches can be special... You are special Imogen, you're the one that broke through this concrete heart of mine."

A unsteady sob tore through the blondes chest as she clung to potion mistress desperately. " I'll find you, I promise" she whispered hoarsely secure in her colleagues arms for now. " I'll find you no matter how long it takes."

" I know you will," Constance let her burgundy lips linger on the non-witches forehead sweetly before the old woman shrieked gleefully.

"Times up!"

Miss Hardbroom stiffened in fear as her arm was caught in the familiar vice like grip and suddenly everything vanished except her captor. But the emerald green eyes poisoned her mind.

"No!" Tears cascaded like rapids down the girl cheeks as her brother caught her in his arms before she collapsed in a grieving mess on the cobblestones.

" Imogen," Marcus' touching voice soothed her slightly as her mind was busy whirring just like clockwork.

" We've got to get her back," she didn't hesitate to bring forth the point.

" I know, I know, but there's no way _we _can get there," he hushed holding his beloved sister close.

" I may not know where '_there' _is... But I know two people who can help," she sniffled, the feel of Constance Hardbroom's warm lips still present, tingling on her temple.


	15. Missing HB

**A/N so I am aware I have not updated in a while, but now I'm on a roll after I get the first part of a chapter done, however It is to my regret that there has been a very ttwistof events In RL that have forced me to delay this chapter a while, but its here now, so apologies for the wait. Please read and review XXX I'm working on Constance and her next chapter as she hasn't made that much of an appearance here.**

_The day started normal, or as normal as it ever gets at Cackle's Academy. Things started to go wrong, one could say, when Imogen Drill set the curtains on fire. She had been there for six days now and Constance was deeply aggravated by the non-witch, whom she concluded was not leaving, no matter how greatly she wished it. The sports mistress was fiddling with 'something' when the brunette just appeared in the staffroom, causing Miss Bat to squeal and Amelia rushing to assure Davina it was okay, lest she hide herself in the cupboard. _

_" Miss Drill, what 'are' you doing? " Miss Hardbroom spoke finally, as she sat herself down,summoning her cup. _

_The blonde had dragged her chair over by the window, where the sun was filtering through warmly, she had a strange contraption on her lap that appeared to be broken. _

_" I'm fixing my camera." It was an old thing and very faulty, and the sports mistress found the sun made every small thing much clearer... That was until she replaced the cell, rejoining two negative wires accidentally. The 'bang' surely woke every student within a 3 mile radius, and the electricity burned the woman's fingertips, but the spark had caught the curtains. Miss Bat shrieked and tripped over the carpet to lock herself in the cupboard. The impact from the electric shock knocked Miss Drill back off her chair, the camera cascading across the floor. Miss Cackle exclaimed sharply, bringing her hands to her ears after the deafening sound effects, knocking her plate to the floor as she did so, the crash making a panicked, hiding Davina scream._

_There was too much noise and too much action for miss Hardbroom, and simply took care of the matters, extinguishing the flames that are up the curtains. She never like them anyway. Slowly, things began to settle down. Miss Cackle fixed her plate, Davina came out of the cupboard, and Imogen, ashamed sat up on the floor, dazed as she tried to stand, catching the brunette's eyes. Constance looked so disappointed, and nerved, deflating Imogen completely. Imogen had failed, all she wanted was to be an equal to her... Maybe impress her... Eventually even make an acquaintance... But how could she ever, when she just burnt the curtains..._

_And as Miss Hardbroom disappeared, Imogen signed, her short hair began to deflate after puffing like a cats... _

_She let her down... The one person she was dying to impress..._

The scene replayed in the young womans head, it was the same feeling now, only worse... Much worse . She let her witch down, she failed. Even more than the time she accidentally set the staffroom ablaze. An owl hooted somewhere out in the distance as Imogen laid wide awake, no matter what position she rests, or what she thought of, sleep was forbidden to come. She had allowed Marcus to sleep in her room after arranging her clothes in a neat dump on her chair and once again kicking her sports magazines under her bed. As for herself? She slept next-door, In miss Hardbroom room, whom would probably tell her off for sleeping there without permission. It clicked to the blonde that she wasn't exactly doing any sleeping... But then it clicked that there _was _no Miss Hardbroom either, and the fact made the non-witch jolt upright and she half expected Constance to rub her shoulder, comfort her with the "things will get better" speech, and suddenly, Imogen Drill failed to contain her tears as a sob shook her body violently, curling up like a caterpillar would. The air was humid and now and filled with the young womans harsh cries. It had been one thing to lose her brother but losing Constance was another thing altogether, it was terribly unfair and it ripped her to shreds. Marcus had persuaded her to delay any actions till the next day, assuring her that they both needed rest and a proper meal before they went "gallivanting" as her brother called it, but of late, Miss Drill simply couldn't rest, as she tossed and turned in her colleagues bunk. The dark nights sky stretched across the window revealing a pleasant view of the treetops from where she laid, the shutters wide open welcoming the cold draft that swept into the room. It dawned upon her that this was the very first night in all these weeks that the two women didn't sleep under the same roof. The girls' chest heaved as she struggled to maintain steady breaths, batting the tears from her cheeks like she was warding off a wasp. Hunched over, Imogen saw blurrily that her tears started to stain Constance's white sheets. She could hardly see, her emerald eyes and clouded so much, that she hadn't noticed Morgana leap on the bed, purring affectionately as it nuzzled her damp cheeks. '_Even her cat likes me!' _Imogen thought positively and sniffed deeply, stroking the sleek black cats fur, running behind its ears fondly, its tail swaying as it meowed, missing her owner.

"I Miss her too... We'll get her back," it didn't strike her as odd that she was talking to a cat, and frankly, she found it quite reassuring. " I promise," she gently picked up the lonely feline, and settled it by her side as she laid down once more, where it curled up against her chest softly, its whiskers tickling her arm. Morgana's tiny black nose nudged her softly, almost as if it was taking care of _her_. The gym mistress let a small grin play on her lips, petting her colleagues cat. But still, the blonde had trouble sleeping. She _had_ to find Constance... She made a promise to a cat.

Constance hadn't stopped shaking at all since she had left Cackles Academy, which in turn, resulted in Heckettys discipline, which of course made her fear her even more... It was a continuous cycle. But one question haunted the woman's mind. Why still? After all these years, why did she still relentlessly persist? A dark shadow had long ago been cast in her heart, teaching her to be afraid and be wary of the woman, knowing the brutal things she was capable of. And over the years, with a little help, she had managed to make the darkness slink back in her mind, but now it was present yet again and she stared horrified, never imagining she'd be back in this position. The ice in the piercing grey eyes chilled her thoroughly, feeling like she was once again fifteen. God, if only Imogen was here! Although she wouldn't admit it, having Miss Drill around was always comforting, (unless their views were opposing, triggering more arguments). But the younger witch stifled a sob, as she became awfully aware, where she was, and that there were no slender, warm arms around her, protecting her... There was nobody.

"Why do you persist?" She mumbled weakly, afraid of even breathing in the woman's direction.

"Why? You '_know' _why Constance..." And despite all, she did, she knew the truth, but it was still far too unfair. " when your poor father ran off and abandoned your mother..."

"He _didn't _run off!" She snapped suddenly "... He was forced to go," she resumed quieter.

"So you think!" Hecketty caught on the end of her statement immediately. " and when my dear niece comes to me with tears and a broken heart, she tells me how stressed she is, coping with two jobs, no husband and a young brat who is constantly in the way. And this is where I am so nice as to offer her a way out. Offering to take my nieces daughter off of her hands...you're rather lucky... You could have been an orphan had I not been generous enough to take you in like one of my own." She concluded, as if she was a martyr, or a well respected figure. " I was like a mother,"

" you were never a mother to me," she spat each word with disgust, yet she broke apart, learning the full truth... Her mother was going to give her up... Her mother was going to let her be taken away into a foster system. " W-wait you always said she had died young..." A baffled Constance took the opportunity to sit in a chair before her legs could give way.

" well why do you think? She didn't want you to find her. She didn't want you! Or anything to do with you." A lone tear trickled down the porcelain skin, as momentarily she forgot how to speak.

"Sh-she's alive? After all this time?"

" How am I supposed to put this... She, doesn't, want, you, Constance," Mistress Broomhead separated each word to fix the point with a smug grin. The worst thing was, she knew she was right. Had she indeed changed her mind, Constance would have received a letter, or a visit or anything.

_Arya was the first born daughter and therefore meant she was the pride and joy of the family, her dark hair and eyes captivated everyone, he mother, her father, her whole neighbourhood, practically anyone who saw her...except her sister. Hecketty, well she had a different mother, and she was a product of betrayal and cheating, after Charles had been drunk in the local tavern one night. With her muddy blonde hair tied back loosely and her stubborn grey eyes, she couldn't hold a candle to her elegant half-sister. Arya always had the attention, and her younger sister was always jealous and couldn't stand to see her parents always swooning over their first born. Arya always had the best of everything. She had the looks, the voice, the friends, the boyfriend, the husband, the daughter, the happy family, Hecketty had nothing... Nothing besides her ferocity and envy._

_Even Arya's daughter, Cassandra had all the perfect features, and all the talent and even more so, her daughter. Constance. By this time Heckety had become a successful tutor, but still, she couldn't even compete to her happy sister, and strove to make everyone else feel worse, to try make herself feel better. Cassandra had thought it was an excellent idea to leave her daughter with family in her own school. The grown up Heckety smirked coldly upon realisation that her beloved sister's grandchild was under her supervision... She could finally pay off a long awaited vengeance. _

_Cassandra had many times tried to withdraw her daughter after receiving various complaints, and every time Heckety denied her. _

_"Mistress Broomhead," the woman began civilly, before slamming her hands down on the desk in front of the older witch. " I demand that you grant my withdrawal permission! I can not allow her to stay here, with you!" _

_"I'm afraid not dear niece, Constance is excelling in her studies, it would be a true shame to have her leave in such circumstances!"_

_" She has written a letter to me once every two weeks, the last concerning the unfairness of the discipline here, and from then I haven't received a letter in six weeks!"the concerned mother cried, knowing her daughter was somewhere in this school._

_" Oh I know all about that Cassie! I took it upon myself to make your girl feel better and welcome, she loves it now! Especially the personal broomstick lessons, she's appeared to have forgotten about her dear mother the past six weeks,"_

_" I want to see her!"_

_" None can do my dear! You're girl has requested that she never wants to see you..."_

_The girl's door swung open as a terrified teenager clung to her bed sheets. _

_"Calm yourself child, I've just came to share some news. Cassandra is terribly ill. She dropped by just now to tell me that it's likely she won't last the week. She told me I am to take care of you, and that it was best if you didn't say goodbye." Constance choked back her tears. As she leapt to the window in time to see cloaked black figure throw up her hood as she left the school and mounted her broom... Not looking back once... _

_"Mother..."_

_"It's alright Constance... You may not have a mother but you'll always have a home." The cold voice drawled is icily with a twisted grin. Finally, all these years of waiting, she could tear her family apart._

Imogen awoke with a sob in her throat and enough motivation to open her eyes and immediately wished she hadn't. As she laid alone on her side, stationary and alone, staring at the empty glass on the bedside table, once containing water... That had been emptied when Constance had offered her an early wake up call the day before. '_For Goodness sake Imogen, get a hold of yourself!'_ She scorned herself, forcing herself out of Constance's bed heavily, throwing open the door and into her own room waking her brother. His dark hair plastered to his forehead and sticking up in places.

"-mogen" he grumbled barely awake as she rummaged through her drawers, pulling out a pair of trousers and a slim jacket as her phone tumbled to the ground.

The woman froze, slowly bending to retrieve it.

She hadn't bothered to change into her clothes, sitting in her oversized shirt, cross-legged on her bed staring at her phone screen which didn't seem to be an appropriate situation when Constance was trapped with Mistress Broomhead. She punched in the numbers half scared half ashamed as she held the cell phone to her ear, nervously chewing on her lower lip.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, it's me..." Imogen shook with anticipation

"_Imogen! How lovely to hear from you!"_

"Wait, Janice... I'm calling, because I wanted to say I'm sorry, for endless years I believed you were awful people... Kidnappers, and I must've caused you a lot of pain, because you lost your son... And you lost me too... I was so... Absorbed in my belief that I hadn't realised that I lost everyone, my whole family." The blonde batted her tears away as she sobbed, clinging to the phone " I'm so sorry, and I love you... Mom." A short silence rang for a moment before she heard her mother crying.

" _We always loved you Imogen, we always will," _the woman sniffed before a deeper voice could be heard.

"_Imogen!"_

"Dad!"

_" Listen, we were always proud of you. We never stopped loving you. When you love someone, each day you wake knowing you'd do anything to have them back"_

"I know, Dad, I understand" and she did, because that was how she felt that very morning.

_" Your mother wonders if you'll visit anytime soon?"_

" Yes, I will I promise," and she meant it, smiling brightly, she swore it to herself she would.

_" Okay Darling, love you"_

" Okay Dad," from the background she could hear her mother yelling that she loved her. " I love you both... I'm so sorry," when she hung up, she felt like a different person, more relaxed more free, as she wiped the lone tears from her cheeks, grabbing her clothes.

" Well, that sure as hell sounded like I missed something," Marcus stated, leaning casually in the doorway. His sister ran her hand through her shirt hair and smiled slightly, not looking at him.

" how long have you been there ?"

"Long enough," he replied with a grin of his own, " What's the plan?"

" Well... I'm going to get dressed, you're going to get a shave then we're going to visit a deadly duo and get Constance back," Marcus ran his fingers over the bristles on his chin and his growing moustache with a chuckle.

" I thought it made me look rather charming, don't you think?"

" Certainly... If you were a pirate, " she turned to face her beloved brother and found he _did _look rather nice, he had tied his dark hair back probably with an elastic band. " You can keep the moustache lose the bristles," she chuckled softly.

" Aye Aye Captain," Marcus Mocked, bowing clumsily as he exited the room, leaving her to change in peace.

Neither brother nor sister had been in town recently so both found it oddly unnatural that they were on a public bus, surrounded by commoners going about their business.

" Well, I had forgotten what it was like to live!" Marcus's sighed as he got off the bus with his sister in tow.

" Its really not that different... Except the technology... And electricity... And, well nevermind"

"So what's so special about this duo?"

" Well, for one they're our transportation and two I know they will help Constance and I... I need her Back Marcus,"

" We'll get her, I promise,"

Both adults gathered their wits about them, Marcus running his fingers over his smooth chin almost fascinated by his reflection in the door knocker.

Imogen knocked and waited.

A brunette pulled open the door with a delicate smile.

" Hello, you must be Mrs Feverfew?"

"Thats right, may I help you?"

"Yes," Imogen smiled warmly " I'm hoping to have a word with fenella, and if I'm right in saying Griselda might be here too?"

" Thats right, " the woman nodded gently, " please come in,"


End file.
